Monday, September 8, 2014

They Marched Through My Dream

They marched in a line, through the
Darkness of my dream, their bodies
Engorged as I remembered them, eyes
Wide, frightened, reflecting our betrayal,

To this day I remember her, her loss
I felt so strongly as a child, hearing her
Loud, horrified cries as that man
With his three stubbed fingers,
Forced her onto the bed of his truck,

"No," I had yelled, cried out, she was
My world, my Molly...and she was there
At the head of the line, Molly so big,
So beautiful,

They were all there, Molly, her daughter
Beauty, and Baby, my Becky's mother and some
I hardly remember, ones we hadn't named,
In a long line,
Waiting,

My father, he was gone, but his words,
His history, his indifference remained,
A farm is no place for the soft of heart,
Our food begats our food, the first mistake
Is naming them, the second is loving them,
And the third is sending them to slaughter,

I left the farm right after high school and
Never looked back, the memories, the
Reminders, they still haunt my dreams,
My own private nightmares,
Of a place I can never return to,
And a barn that was both my only haven

And the place of my first, worst nightmare. 

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