Poem By Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
The night winds blow hard as
I stumble across the empty parking lot,
blood dripping from my hands.
I must make it, no other way can I see.
she holds on to me tightly, barley is she conscious.
.Though my arms are strong, my soul is weak.
She screams out in pain, I stop,
and gently sweep back her hair,
wet, but not from the rain,
the blood, red and sticky covers her face.
The car, now far behind, lays
upside down in a deep gully.
I never should have let her drive,
not while she was drunk.
She is not breathing,
her eyes are open, she stares, but sees nothing.
As I lay her down on the wet ground,
I shake my fists to the heaven's,
And shout; 'why her. Dear God why her? '
The only answer is that of the
approaching thunder, and no more.
She was such a lovely woman, pure,
and innocent, undeserving of such a death.
What shall I say to our children?
What is the reason for such pain that I feel?
It is the thorn which will forever be in my side