Roots & Wings - A Letter from Conner

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Roots & Wings - A Letter from Conner


Roots and Wings - The Murder of Conner Peterson

 

Dear Daddy,

what I am about to say, is something you may not want to hear,

but sooner or later you're going to have to admit, that you dumped mommy and me off

that marina's pier.

You did, daddy, the most wonderful thing one human being can do for another - you

gave me life, you gave me roots,

then you did the most horrific thing one human being can do for another - you took

my life, you stole my youth.

How could you, daddy? I had so much to live for, God gave me a plan,

why you denied me life, I'll never understand.

I would have had sparkling eyes, like mommy's, and a face the mirrored mommy's and yours,

I would have been a daily reflection of your love, but that, like me, killed, unborn.

I had countless things to see and do,

all this unattainable, because of you.

My first word, my first step,

my first smile, and my first breath.

My first breath I never took though daddy....you drowned me,

on the rocks, 4 months later, is where a stranger found me.

My umbilical cord still attached,

mommy, followed me to shore, broken, murdered, and detached.

Daddy, how could you do this?

How could you live through this?

Daddy, I loved you, I believed you loved me too,

but you didnt want me, I know now, that this is true.

What crime could I have comitted?

to deserve this, daddy....in your life, I was obliterated.

I had a name daddy, I was Conner,

I was a miracle, a living, breathing person, for life, I would've been honored.

I would have proudly carried on your name,

as you now carry the heavy burdened cross of guilt and shame.

From what I see daddy, you smile smugly, and you laugh in your cell,

for all the wisdom of a lifetime, and for all the answers, not even God can tell.

To you daddy, I know my life and mommy's didn't have any value, they didn't mean a thing,

you have may once loved me enough to give me roots, but it was God who gave me wings.

 

With the unconditional love of a child, I remain, your son,

may mommy's and my death, haunt you until Kingdom Come.

 

~Conner Peterson~

©2007 Karen M. Seith

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In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.

Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.

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