Nadia

Quartered, drawn, sullen, morose,

Her spirit shattered and scattered;

No more emotional growth.

Abandoned & left as a young child to die;

She was adopted by a hippy in a

full length dress, an Indigo designed tie-dye.

Nevertheless, the crippling emotional trauma,

With the loss of her primary maternal figure,

Destroyed her life, no lie or artificial drama.

For this woman, at the gut level & heart,

Could no longer even ponder re

The wonders of this world, well too far apart.

Her adoptive mother did, however, wonder;

If she was a curse to this child, or

Perhaps some deficient blunder.

Nadia, the woman, in this true to life poem

Could just not muster this world,

Even at the zenith of her cranberry totem.

She just spent her life merely taciturn

From the early morning until the dawn.

At 45-years old her bleeding body surrendered;

To an early death, by her own doing

It was to be expected, it was so rendered.

So, she was put in a coffin, analogous to the orphan

And her gravestone read:

“Finally, at peace now laid; no need ye trust to be afraid.”