Gregory (gshaw57) Upshaw (1957 / Wichita, Kansas)

There is a ribbon
That so eloquently draped her gravesite
She was a victim of violence—

This woman full of life
Taken so abruptly
Worn down, beaten down
A victim of society—

She was no crack head—no prostitute
She was no mule
She was a victim of society!

Pregnant at seventeen
Ex-communicated at eighteen
From the only family she knew
She was a victim of society—

A year from graduation
Thrust into marriage of circumstance
A man of the street—with decades of hate—

No mannerism to speak of
His woman a possession
And
Not a queen
She was a victim of society—

His anger manifested in her pain
That resonated with abuse
With no help in sight
She was a victim of society—

Where is the help—she asked?
She prayed for relief
Is this society answers to my pain?
Is it left on my doorsteps?

Doorsteps of depth ears
She was a victim of society—

So here she lies—in this cold grave
A victim of society
A victim of aggression
A victim of Domestic Violence
And no answer
To her plea
She was a victim of society!

Written by
Gregory E Upshaw