The Bottom of the Well

When they found her at the bottom of the well…
What was to be thought?
There she lay a heap of nothingness.
The bloody stains upon the wall,
seemed as if she tried to claw out.
Her torn dress, strips of cloth made into knots.
She was left down here as an afterthought.

The hours dragged by,
the minutes wore on,
the seconds are now long gone.
No one cared to listen to an angel in its innocence.
The stains of tears made a trail that met the dripping tap.
A once cheerful mouth is now twisted in agony,
that no one wants to help.

What must it have been like night after night?
To be alone with one’s thoughts?
The day-time hours become a rushing roar.
Is the well 10 feet deep, no maybe 12?
It never mattered that the well was at the apex of it all,
In front for everyone to see and hear.
Did anyone even think to peer?

When the judging sentencing reigns its justice head,
The people of the town will cry not treason or sedition,
they will chant tales of being too caught up in their own
world to simply hear the moans of another more distressed.
As they placed her limp drawn body upon the pail
and slowly rolled her up to surface air,
The looming funeral march lay just ahead.

I caught a tear jerk from a master’s eye.
He was caught in shame and disgrace,
to let this happen under his watchful sigh.
He vowed in the heat of the moment,
This should never happen again.
But it’s too late for the girl,
for only hours ago, in a last soulful plea,
She asked God to forgive her of all her sins.

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~ by Abeni El-Amin on November 18, 2010.

 
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