Bedtime Stories from my Grandmother

Our Father, who art in Heaven

Hallowed be thy name.

I only saw my brothers

Once and awhile.

Through the iron bars

when we would line up to go inside.

Sometimes we could wave,

But usually just nod,

When the sisters weren’t looking.

Thy kingdom come, thy will be done,

On Earth as it is in Heaven.

We were so hungry.

I worried about my sister.

Sometimes I could pass a piece of cheese,

Little grubby hand, to little grubby hand.

Under the table.

My sister would gobble up the stale cheese

That was probably black

by the time it got to her.

Give us this day our daily bread

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

Sometimes the nuns were so mean.

If we wet the bed,

Which happened a lot,

We were just little kids;

They would lock us in the tiny broom closet,

In the far corner of the dormitory bathroom.

Sometimes for days;

In our wet nightgowns,

With only rats for company.

Lead us not into temptation

But deliver us from evil.

It was just as bad at home.

There was even less food,

And mom was always drunk,

Just like they said she would be.

She didn’t speak English,

and wore her hair long and braided,

Even then,

When it wasn’t the way.

For thine is the kingdom, the power,

And the glory, for ever, and ever.

Amen.