Rhonda

It was the last day of her life and no-one knew it

It was a hot day, and steamy. And she was sleepy.

She played in the shade digging little holes in the dirt with a stick.

She had work to do. But she didn't do it.

We had to gather sticks for the fire and chase the cattle.



She was small and chubby and her tiny fingers soft and round.

Her eyes were the palest blue and her hair so fine and fair.

Her crooked little smile charmed everyone.

She was four years old.

She was my sister.



It was the last day of her life and she didn't know it.

She paid the price for disobedience twice that day.

She felt the sting of the strap across her little legs.

He hit her four times.

I saw the tears on her dusty little cheeks.



It was the last hour of her life and I did not know it.

I tried to put things right.

I lit the fire for her.

I worked as fast as my little hands would.

The work was done. I was left in the dairy alone.



It was the last minutes of her life and no one knew it.

They swam in the creek. My older sisters playing and laughing

She wanted to play too but they didn't want her.

She could not swim without her costumes they told her and sent

    her home.

She did not go.



It was the last moments of her life and she knew it.

Her fine fair hair floated like a halo around her.

The sun glistened on her back.

They rolled her on her side. Her tiny teeth so brilliant white against

    her purple lips,

Her pale blue eyes looking nowhere.



It was the last day of her life and we all knew it.