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 ELIZABETH WAS HER NAME



"This is a True Story, A story that I live over and over...
But, a story that's needed to be told!"


WRITTEN TODAY, BECAUSE IT WAS TIME TO REMEMBER MY FATHER.
A WORD VERY HARD TO SAY. THIS IS WRITTEN IN REMEMBRANCE
OF ONE DAY IN THE LIFE OF YOURS TRULY. HOW SELFISH THAT
MUST SOUND FOR AS YOU READ ON, YOU WILL KNOW IT WAS MORE
ABOUT MY MOTHER THAN ME...THAT ONE DAY WHEN MY MOTHER TOOK
HER LAST BREATH IN MY ARMS. FROM A FINAL BEATING, HE NO
LONGER WILL EVER PUT UPON HER. I WAS SEVENTEEN AND MY SISTER,
BONNIE WAS ONLY FOURTEEN. MOM DIED AT THE HANDS OF MY FATHER
AT THE YOUNG AGE OF FORTY-FIVE. HERE IS WHAT TRANSPIRED ON
THAT DARK DAY.

P.S. I'm often reminded to leave the past where it is, so I
say sorry in advance for writing on this subject if it offends
anyone. My poetry is and has always been written about my entire
life growing up. Please read with the awareness that some of our
lives weren't filled with roses everyday. Yet, I am here and my
entire family are gone. I write to tell a story, stories that are
real to life. I lived it!



 




ELIZABETH WAS HER NAME



Father, I now speak to you after all these years
Why? I'm not really sure, except you were in my mind today
I remember at age three, you holding me for a photo opt
You looked so unbelievably proud. Funny, I remember that

Where did you go after that wonderful moment in time, Dad?
All I can ever remember is the hitting, slapping and beatings
How I grew to hate you with every fiber in my heart and soul
You became that man we grew to fear and held wishes undesirable

When did you stop being the man that showed some tender moments?
What caused you to unleash horrors that we couldn't believe?
When you were five or so and wish to have a hero to look up to
I couldn't find or understand what a Hero was suppose to be

All the bloody beatings Mom endured in her short life on Earth
You were the one who put her in an early grave way before her time
Dad, why did you beat her so bad, then turned on us feeding your anger
At seventeen, I held her in my arms and watched her life slip away

You can't imagine the horror that I felt, there was nothing I could do
I felt the cold hand of death shiver through my heart and soul
Damn you for that, Damn you for all the sorrow, Damn you for the pain
Couldn't you see the hurt in Bonnie and me? Did you care or even try?

Picture Mom in my arms, the woman that gave me life, gave Bonnie life
I seventeen, Bonnie a mere fourteen years young and Mom only forty-five
You weren't there that horrific day when she whispered her last words
She softly said, "Lee, get out of that house and take care of Bonnie".

Then she said, "Lee I love you and Bonnie". Then she went limp in my arms
Can you ever imagine what a seventeen year old felt at that moment?
I did not know which way was up, the horror in Bonnie's eyes frighten me
A thousand questions went through my already confused and lost mind

My God!, What was I suppose to do? I pulled my hand from her grip so tight
Reached for Bonnie, ran down that hallway, it seemed to be a mile long
Ran out of the hospital and into the street screaming, "Oh My Dear God!"
At that moment all I could do was to collapse to my knees and feel defeated

Well, that's neither here nor there any longer, but today it all came back
I guess its near Mom's birth date and memories do linger on in the mind
Christ, it's thirty-eight years later and it feels like it was yesterday
I write this at fifty-five and I am now all alone in this miserable world

Mom and Bonnie are gone, you left this world all alone and by your own doing
Here I remain, it is as I felt as a child growing up on Blue Berry Hill, fearful
How do I feel? I ask myself with tears mounting and my heart weakling right now
God I hate you, I curse you for putting us through a living hell all our lives

I look at this photo of you holding me at age three, I see the pride in your face
You never ever showed love for any of us, for all you ever showed was anger
You had a rough life, I know that you worked hard, Did you hate us for that?
Elizabeth was her name, Our mother and your wife for twenty-six years, Before;
You beat to death!











by Richard Lee Cook
Copyright 2011
An SILVERFEATHER Creation


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