My little girl, Sally, always played nurse
To her Barbie and Ken dolls.
Not pretty clothes but Ban-Aids and iodine
Covered her dolls’ bodies.

She was just a little brown-eyed, dark-haired girl
Who wore her toy stethoscope around her neck
Like a fine piece of jewelry.

From her childhood days on
Sally knew what her carrier would be.
She became a Registered Nurse at age 21.
She worked in Pediatrics, her arms were filled with
Babies and young children whom
She loved and cared for.

She had more talent and time
Than her work called for
So with stethoscope in hand
She enlisted as a Naval Reserve Nurse.

Three months later, Sally was called up
For duty in Saudi Arabia.
I cried, “No, no, darling, don't go.”

“I must go, Mother.” Sally said.
“I must help care for the wounded.
The war will be over fast.
I'll be home for Christmas.
All the wise men say so.
You just wait and see.”

I wrote many letters to my little girl.
I received one from her.
She said she was fine,
That she will be home for Christmas.
Then nothing.

Yesterday, an official wire arrived.
It said, “We are sorry to inform you
That your daughter was killed by a Scud missile last night.”

Now I dust her room.
I see her stethoscope on the dresser.
I pick it up. I cradle it in my arms
And rock it back and forth.
 

Scud-Damaged Buildings
A building hit by a Scud missile in the Iraqi bombardment of Tel Aviv during the Gulf War is illuminated at night by arc lights. Israel.
www.corbis.com