The newspaper print, cold and black:
"Woman found dead in well."
Dark and dank a Georgia well sits.
Stained with the horrors of wickedness and rage.
A “grave” for the woman in the well.
Found by her son at the tender age of thirteen, laying face down,
no more screams to be heard, dead.
Listed on her death certificate, Cause of death “uncertain.”
Buried with her that day?
A man’s injustice, and the Guilt of our Silence.
De-moralized questions taunt.
How and What was “I” suppose to do?
“Everyone” knew, day after day the “bruises”
became ….normal.
“Injustice” does not speak softly but shrieks
With conviction melting even the boldest of hearts.
What would you do if the “sounds” of a woman getting beat?
Became justified excuses cautioning you?
“it’s none of your business.”
Thirty one years later, a niece,
with courage of heart sought Answers and justice
for the murder of her Aunt.
The son of murdered Gwendolyn Moore,
a sweet boy, only thirteen years old at the time of her death.
Now a grown man weeps like a wounded babe for his ma.
Veins of “regret” run thick and deep.
Memories of her tears crying out each night,
hearing her being beaten, punched and stomped.
Covered in bruises afraid if he hugged her?
It would crush what little... was left.
When asked why... his mama did stay?
He chokes out the words, the threats of
Poverty his father made.
Swallowed whole, believed and heard, our
Woman in the well barters food for her
Children in exchange for painful beatings.
A mother’s love for her children not wanting
To see them starve.
The courage of this niece we salute and
Admire. She demanded BOLD answers
Commanding the attention of Cold Case Investigators.
Exumed and removed from her weeping place
thirty three years later.
The woman in the well, Gwendolyn Moore
is clearly revealed.
A medical examiner tenderly speaks to her last remains,
the bones of her life.
“Speak to me, tell us what happened?”
Two hundred and six bones connect the body together.
It was the bones of the neck first to speak to this doctor.
Crushed and broken, split in two, evidence of a powerful
“strangling.”
Murder charges were filed!
ON the Sixth day of July, Two Thousand and
Five, six weeks before trail?
The MURDERER of Gwendolyn Moore?
Dies of cancer.
I write to honor her life. The bold courage
Of her niece.
The voices of “injustice” speak harsh to my
Thoughts…
What was the gravest injustice?
I bow my head in kindest respect,
SILENCE, it was the "SILENCE of ALL."
Red roses of poetic tears in kindest rememberance of
you dear poetic sister, Gwendolyn Moore.
Bronze trophy winner
Adding your comment:
