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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.
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(click book to enlarge)

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