It Was the Summer of Sixty-Two (part 2)
"Daddy, Mommy, help me"she cried, "I'm scared."
She could smell that sewer
That awful stagnant sewer.
Her head was hurting;
She was bleeding; her body burned
With the scrapes and tears
From the rocks and briars that
She had been pulled through.
She didn't want to open her eyes
Afraid of what she might see;
Afraid of the man with the fiery hands.
"I must do my work!"
He chanted it, over and over again
"I must do my work. Thy will be done."
She could make out a dark figure
Standing over her as she lay splayed out
On this board that stuck and scraped her raw.
"Help me, please, daddy, mommy," she moaned.
"Shut up!" He slapped her across the face.
It stung, burned her again with those savage hands.
She finally was able to see.
Don't want to see!
She closes her eyes.
He stands ready to do his work.
"Thy will be done."
She screamed with all her might.
She became the tiger.
"Roar!" Her Daddy told to Roar.
She scratched and bit and tore into the demon's eyes,
Dragon eyes, black eyes with no life.
"Kick! Use your muscles," her Daddy said.
"Crouch! Jump!"
It was as though she sprang to life.
She was fighting.
She fought and wrestled before with the neighbor's bully.
She could fight. She could win! She could run!
She won the fastest runner contest!
But she was only a girl, not yet ten.
She was facing a death, the face of "the end."
But, that wasn't the end, my friend, that was not the end!
Kathy Lockhart
8/27/06
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 461 times
Written on 2006-08-27 at 08:05
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