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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required 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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