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In Loving Memories:
Lloyd Earl McColley 1938-1968
Part One….Fractures of Life:
Little Girl Lost
Men with golden medals of firearms brigade;
Gun salutes over his destined unexpected grave…
Is he really inside the decreed wooden casket box?
6 feet into the earth, he is lowered;
everyone dresses for Sunday… black is best;
…with white shirts tailored & wool dresses pressed,
unfolding metal chairs they find a place to sit.
The soldiers stand in perfect stillness;
Little girl stands lost; or is she alone?
…wearing her pretty shiny new shoes.
They gave her mother memorandums;
…an American flag remembering honors best.
No one is smiling today…the rifles fire into the open sky;
this memory begins to fade…
Where do childhoods go?
When she was five he sang to her
…his last and closing song.
He was a talented musician
with his Gibson guitar he’d strum…
Smoking his unfiltered Pall Malls…
Everyone loved his beautiful serenading songs…
Lung cancer took his final begotten breath.
Who lives on when the protection of love dies?
Are we all lost souls?
Little girl lost remembers his voice, as she now sees tears
constantly falling from her mother’s hurting eyes…
Death withers her mother; slowly dying in mortuary’s grief.
Passion no longer lives inside her mother’s lonely beckoning heart.
Little girl lost is hungry, and cold;
watching her mother fall apart…
…reaching to understand uncertainty…
The arms of alcohol, and drugs slip in
like a slow moving hearse;
…her mother’s life slowly slips
… further, and further away…
Domestic violence brutally disfigures her
broken frail bones; but somewhere
little girl lost hoped her mother would live…
…praying to God’s Holy spirit Jesus
…and she did…
…is this really living? What do little girls know?
…her soul buried inside her husband’s grave…
Aren’t children supposed to laugh and play?
Further time speaks in violence
as she reads her bible verse;
the presence of death approaches closer,
and closer it knocks…knocks...knocks…
Takes her mother’s last and final breath;
…is the bathroom floor cold?
Why is her hair in her face?
One gunshot to her breast
her mother’s blood spills on the floor…
She lost her will to live…without him…
…and her mother’s tears fall no more…
(Written: November 15th, 2009 8:09 a/m)
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In Loving Memories
Karen F. McColley 1943-1973
In Joy, In Peace, In Grace, In Harmony of Love
Copyright© 2009 Poetess Victoria L. McColley