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
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.