Blooming From Roots 4-10-13

This is a TRUE STORY POEM of horror, action and suspense.

It starts with a little 6 year old girl named "Jellee" (pronounced "jelly")
from Liberia, Africa (on the western coast) -
and ends when she is about 18 and having changed her name to Veronica.
I think you'll find out why...

I personally interviewed Veronica and helped begin writing her biography
which she is planning to entitle "Blooming From Roots".
I name this poem the same.

Obviously I am not able to write her whole life's experiences in poetry form
and her book will be more detailed -
yet I kept this poem fully factual
(and should be appropriate for the younger readers as well).
I have written it in 'first person' in present tense with permission.

I wish to thank Veronica (Jellee) Gabor for giving me permission
to publish this poem for my readers.
I hope you enjoy "Blooming From Roots".

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Blooming From Roots

The night is very peaceful.  Stars twinkle in the sky.

While God creates the beauty, man destroys - but why?

A-boom! Boom! Boom!   A-bang, bang, bang!  A-pop, pop, pop!  Rat-a-tat-tat...

Our village undefended!  The horror starts like that.

What is going on?  I'm only six years old.  Gunshots echo through the air!

Yelling, screaming - orders barked.  Bullets everywhere!

(Jellee, in blue, at her home with some of her family - age 6)

As fireworks, but louder - those AK-forty-seven's -

A-bang, bang, bang!  A-pop, pop, pop!  The booming shakes the heavens!

The rebels swarm like bumble bees!  The terror snatches breath.

They frighten all the villagers.  They sting us with their death!

They scare me so.  I try to run.  One catches me off-guard.

He slaps me and I start to bleed.  He hits and kicks me hard.

They seize my father, torture him.  They frighten me a lot!

They grab his arms, behead him there - and kill him on the spot.

The rebels move so swiftly!  I'm just a little child!

My mom is screaming.  I am too.  These murderers are wild!

Two more hold my mother down - they kill as if a game!

"Shut up!" the rebel yells at me, "...or you will get the same!"

Oh, how I squirm and wiggle!  He's holding me so tight.

He hurts my arms.  I cry and scream!  I am too young to fight.

He hits me hard with his big gun.  It slams me to the ground.

He swears that I will get the same if I make one more sound.

Shocked, I am.  I'm terrified.  My friends still unaware -

of what is really happening.  Is this a bad nightmare?

I scramble up and start to run - past one hut, then another.

Oh, will he kill me as he did my father and my mother?

I run as fast as I can run.  I'm frightened as can be.

A lady grabs and picks me up - her arms protecting me.

I'm wailing as she runs to hide among 'da bush' and trees.

I hear the chaos all around now bent low on my knees.

I soon think it is safe enough for me to run away -

but I will be forever scarred.  I won't forget this day.

For years I live with others, my makeshift families -

but oh, the torture I go through is more than man believes.

(Jellee at age 10)

Such sin conceives atrocious things, but that does not compare

to all the things they make me do.  It's way too much to bear...

I lost my friends and family.  It simply makes no sense!

I cannot find a peaceful place.  I lose my innocence.

I bounce between the villages to find a life of peace -

but trial after failed trial, the sadness doesn't cease.

Then once again, it happens!  And this I can't endure!

The rebels come in shooting!  No village is secure!

I pray that they will go away.  My heart is beating hard.

I hide again inside 'da bush' - emotionally scarred.

I try to hide the best I can with rebels coming near -

I hear the bushes moving and an angry voice I hear:

"We know you're hiding!  Come on out, or we shoot again!"

 And with those words they fire some more - a terrorizing sin.

A bullet hits my ankle.  I quickly take my top -.

and tie it 'round my ankle - for it is all I've got.

And then I try to flee again.  There's no way I can stay.

My left hand holds my ankle as I try to run away.

I hear something familiar.  I look up to the skies.

A helicopter nears the road!  A sight for weary eyes!

The emblem proves it's friendly.  The bright 'red, white and blue'.

I run as fast as I can go.  That is what I must do.

I hold my bleeding ankle and I also try to run.

My former top is soaked with blood.  My last dash has begun.

I cannot stay and that's for sure - to left and right, I glance.

I look out through the clearing.  This is my only chance!

I pass the dying bodies of - mothers, girls and boys.

But I must leave this awful place where sinful man destroys.

Through bullets, can I make it?  I really do not know.

I start across the clearing.  I stumble as I go.

It seems to take forever.  I'm determined so, to put -

this nightmare far behind me.  I hurt from head to foot.

The chopper blades are noisy.  The dust blows in my face.

Some bullets zing right past my head.  I quicken up my pace!

Just when I'm feeling hopeful, a bullet rips my side.

I fall with all the others and I think I'll miss my ride.

I have no strength to run again.  I'm bleeding real bad.

I put my right hand on my side.  That chance was all I had.

I'm feeling weak and failing fast.  While dying here, I cry.

I vainly wave for someone's help - so futilely I try...

And then the lights go out.  It's black.  I've failed with the others -

those who came so very close - fathers, mothers, brothers...

When terror roots, a rebel shoots and death is what he gives -

yet blooming now from ugly roots, a lovely flower lives!

And two weeks later, I wake up, with coma finally over.

And though I ache from head to toe, I 'see' green fields of clover.

I 'see' a land so beautiful - a land that most can't see -

a land of milk and honey, of opportunity.

(one of Jellee's gunshot wounds - this one from an AK-47)

Now five years later, it came true.  I'm thankful still today.

Though I don't know who rescued me, I'm in the USA!

It seems as though I'm born again - and not just 'physically'.

I 'see' this land more beautifully - and it comes 'spiritually'.

An everlasting land in Heav'n - if Jesus lives within.

He picks us up right where we fall - if we've been born again.

The day is very peaceful.  Although the terror looms,

As God creates the beauty, His precious child blooms.

©2012 louis gander - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED (11/19/12)

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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John 3:16 King James Version (KJV)

For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

John 14:3 (KJV)

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

Just His Guest 4-5-13

I sit a'spell and ponder 'bout,

creation at its best -

and savor life each minute knowing

I am just His guest...

And frolicking, those two fawns did, near green, dense forest brush -

just playing in ecstatic glee.  I laid low, quiet, hushed...

A bubbling brook meandered past one little playful twin -

and slipped down over smooth washed stones in sheets most paper thin.

So quietly I watched them play, as mother doe stood still.

She guided them and peered around as only mothers will.

And grandly standing on the knoll, a rigid eight point buck.

He stood as if a statue there, as if his feet were stuck.

A squirrel scampered up a tree.  The twins both took a drink.

The mother doe stepped closer and- this whole view made me think.

I pondered God's creation.  Such beauty man can see -

of peace and true tranquility...  but then a "BOOM!" shook me.

CRACK!!  That bang had echoed- still echoes in my head.

The eight point buck, with startled jerk, had lurched and then fell dead.

How quickly things can happen- and in our lives as well -

when we could end up just like that- in Heaven or in Hell.

Though He had loved and only healed and gave us full increase,
some couldn't 'stomach' long ago, this Man of grace and peace.

We kill to have our stomach filled, indifferent for the loss.

This fateful time man killed with gun- but former time, a cross.

Those creatures scattered with that shot and I saw not a trace.

The eight point buck gave all he had- but Jesus, life and grace.

I sit a 'spell and ponder 'bout

creation at its best -

and savor life each minute knowing

I am just His guest...

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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A Leaf 4-1-13

I was a leaf with no relief

from stiff and blowing winds -

and twisted taut was cruelly fought

with all their greedy sins.

I set my sights on city lights

but life was in their hands.

I held on tight with all my might -

but they had killed my plans.

Still, all went good- as well, it should

until I met my match -

when roared and churned the gusts had turned.

I twisted and detached.

But oh, alas!  It came to pass

that it was not of me!

With legal tools, they changed the rules -

then yanked me from that tree.

Unlike a play, the truth did say,

I sailed through the air.

I did not know where I would go,

but oh, indeed I cared.

Now judged from those with pointed nose

who see me from afar -

they claim I failed because I'd sailed

with breezy winds that are.

Let those who judge and do not budge

be sentenced not this way -

but may the suns burn greedy ones

forever and a day...

They do not care I'm flying where

no leaf has gone before

and so I go where ill winds blow

but not forevermore.

I'll settle down on clover ground

on soft caressing lawn -

that's so serene by pastures green

where few have ever gone.

It's Heaven's sod.  For only God

knows everywhere I've blown.

And He employs the greatest joys

this world has ever known.

©2013 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/

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