deepundergroundpoetry.com
Heather of the Dean
"Heather [West, murdered daughter of serial killers Fred and Rose West] ... expressed to [siblings] Mae and Stephen her desire to run away from home and live a nomadic lifestyle in the Forest of Dean, and to never again see any human beings." - Wikipedia (entry for Fred West), quoting Rose West: The Making of a Monster by Jane Woodrow, p. 236, 2011
Such cruelty cannot be countenanced.
A simple truth.
Yet countenanced it was, and is,
and will in circles of despair
decreasing, hopefully.
I cannot broach your tenderness,
the rawness of your flesh
resembling its God, the soul.
I shouldn't even write these lines.
(Let alone share them.)
What right, really, have I?
I write about what captures me
when idly dreaming,
the rubbish tip of thought,
bits of crud pulled from
their lodgings, and brushed up
with rhyme or speed
or just image.
The life you dreamt in the Forest of Dean,
away from all humans,
is what inspired this. I see you there,
in my misguided fantasy
of optimistic ends,
to stories where the one ending
cannot be countenanced, or broached.
A light shines in my eyes
while walking by a certain set of trees.
And so I glimpse you just barely,
the savage girl,
picking berries from bushes
and re-filling your water skin,
far away from Cromwell Street,
far away from all humans.
Such cruelty cannot be countenanced.
A simple truth.
Yet countenanced it was, and is,
and will in circles of despair
decreasing, hopefully.
I cannot broach your tenderness,
the rawness of your flesh
resembling its God, the soul.
I shouldn't even write these lines.
(Let alone share them.)
What right, really, have I?
I write about what captures me
when idly dreaming,
the rubbish tip of thought,
bits of crud pulled from
their lodgings, and brushed up
with rhyme or speed
or just image.
The life you dreamt in the Forest of Dean,
away from all humans,
is what inspired this. I see you there,
in my misguided fantasy
of optimistic ends,
to stories where the one ending
cannot be countenanced, or broached.
A light shines in my eyes
while walking by a certain set of trees.
And so I glimpse you just barely,
the savage girl,
picking berries from bushes
and re-filling your water skin,
far away from Cromwell Street,
far away from all humans.
Published 16th Sep 2019
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 3
reading list entries 1
comments 3
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Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
16th Sep 2019 8:00pm
dearest Jack this is beautiful
I used to dream of living wild in a forest...
love Brenda ❤
I used to dream of living wild in a forest...
love Brenda ❤
Anonymous
- Edited 16th Sep 2019 11:02pm
16th Sep 2019 11:01pm
Reminds me of how much inspiration I got from the Moors murderers in a very odd way. Not that I condone their crimes for a second, but their victims deserve memory at the very least.
Very interesting dynamic here to write of Heather West. A difficult topic to approach at the best of times. Done skilfully here with sensitivity.
-M
Very interesting dynamic here to write of Heather West. A difficult topic to approach at the best of times. Done skilfully here with sensitivity.
-M
Anonymous
- Edited 17th Sep 2019 11:36pm
17th Sep 2019 11:31pm
Sent me down a rabbithole of death, debauchery and dismemberment; what a strange animal we are, us human beings their biggest concern was not getting caught;
At least the girls death was from what I could gather the reason they were caught; some good from the tragedy
without context this piece didn't quite sit right for me, but with what I've read the solemn apologetic tonality of the write and the delicate handling of a dead persons dreams is well presented.
Really loved the phrase
"The savage girl"
and that it was put on a standalone line
ties it all together for me
I.e. the "savage" lifestyle but also the savge way she was cruelly cut to pieces.
As always a joy to read your writing
At least the girls death was from what I could gather the reason they were caught; some good from the tragedy
without context this piece didn't quite sit right for me, but with what I've read the solemn apologetic tonality of the write and the delicate handling of a dead persons dreams is well presented.
Really loved the phrase
"The savage girl"
and that it was put on a standalone line
ties it all together for me
I.e. the "savage" lifestyle but also the savge way she was cruelly cut to pieces.
As always a joy to read your writing
