Madame Juliette Poem by Mark Christmas

Young girl Mademoiselle,
felt deprivation during conflicting
countries and the years.

The butcher of war showed you the
price needed for the carcasses, dismembered
on the slab of dissension.

A young man took you, relieved you of
burden; a destroyed, disassembled life,
where soldiers burrows plotted
the landscape of your homeland.

He hoped time and distance would
relieve you of the damage, where a
thousand pounding guns had created
unfixable craters in your innocent mind.

Though it fell apart, you
were found, trussed like the
Christmas turkey you looked to
price from twelve grocers.

What was the force that made
you feel self destruction? the
denial had faded and maybe
the truth was inevitable.

Sorely missed Madame, though
introspection may give us direction;
only you held the map.