Carrie Stinnard 1891-1908

Carrie Stinnard 1891-1908 No one was supposed to know about it. No one was privy to what I saw that cloudy day. That curious and confusing day, Over there, in Clark Cemetery, Across bemired Citrus Road, With the mud puddles and the tire tracks. Over there amongst the alabaster crosses And the soaked pliant ferns. Roscoe Settle and Artilissa Dorland Clark Were sitting closely together there, Like man and wife, huddled At honeymoon in the soft rain, Her husband Aretas, still warm in his grave, And she, with her head on Roscoe’s shoulder! Scandalous indeed! Outrageous indeed! Even here in my grave, I wonder at that woman’s audacity, Her highfaluting hypocrisy. I wonder if there were any morals remaining, There, inside her irrational lustful heart? At the sight of this – I was indeed, Scarred for the remainder of my short life! How could she, an older woman, Lead that poor boy on like that? When I died, I died an undefiled virgin girl, A dedicated servant of the Lord, A stern and stringent defender of our faith! Just like him, one Roscoe Settle, The man of my dreams! The man whom even God found sinless in His sight! Amen to the saints of this staggering earth!