She stands there looking
Grass growing in fields at her feet
The smell of dung wafts through the air
A pitchfork stabbed into blackened soil
Her blue eyes innocent and wise
Ask questions from a mislaid book
But I
Cannot answer
Sermons have no meaning here
Where fences cleave the world in two
A man emerges from the rear
Dressed in black
Hat beard and stern
Grumbled words
She must obey
Turning at the door
A quick glance
Her eyes to mine
A soft goodbye
And she is gone...
He stands there looking
No riddles in the forbidding darkness of his stare
And I must leave
The graveled road
Stretches before me
Miles to go
‘Neath an open sky.
~ Laurence Overmire
(Previously published in Kimera, Dec.1998; Poetic Voices, July 2000)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Laurence, while nothing could ever compensate the families involved for the loss of their little girls, I have no doubt that it will comfort them somewhat to know that people care. Thanks for caring, Laurence. I'd like to recommend you by a piece on this very subject by Lamont Palmer, a highly gifted writer, in my opinion. It's called 'Amish Girls'. Best wishes, Gina.