Peter's Lullaby
 by Jeanne Fowler

My mom always called my three-year-old brother Peter, "The Bum."

I was a sensitive young girl of six who she called "George."

Every day we were beaten and tied standing against the wall in our own waste. 

We would sob for hours.

Later that year, mom began stuffing rags soaked in scalding water into our mouths to muffle our screams.

Peter began to softly chant a mantra of his own creation.

His nightly lullabies comforted me greatly.

Eventually, my brother was tortured to death and I wound up in abusive foster homes.

At one foster home, my social workers did something so shocking that I vowed to never speak to them again.

I maintained my vow of silence even when I was frequently beaten with a rubber hose.

At night, I found that the only way I could get to sleep was to gaze at the stars through my tears and softly sing "Peter's Lullaby."

A song without words that held a
little girl's life together!

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