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

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".
---

Blooming From Roots #1 of 3

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!

As fireworks, but louder - those AK-forty-sevens -
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?

(continued on "Blooming From Roots #2 of 3 -true story poem)

©2012 louis gander / www.ganderpoems.org
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