by Ethel Mortenson Davis
The older Oriental woman
was not nice.
The younger men
that were of European descent
accompanied him.
Actually, they never
left his side.
He thought if he
went far enough away,
they would go away.
But they did not.
Even when he was dying
they frightened him.
That was why he moved
far away—to New York.
Perhaps all his problems
would go away.
But they did not.
He told us this at the last.
He didn’t want to hurt us.
When you were little
The voices in your head
were telling you things.
I made a mental note,
“Something is wrong.”
fourwindowspress 
Ahimsa.
Thank you. Love Ethel
Apologies for my long absence, Ethel. I have been slowing down with blogging for a variety of reasons. This is so raw and poignant. Thank you, as always, for sharing your heart and truth. Hope you and Tom and all your family are well. XO ♥
Good to hear from you.Love Ethel
That’s a heavy burden for someone to bear, Ethel; for anyone. Your lines are simple and eloquent.
More comes to light now. Love Ethel
Sad, touching, written with love and compassion. Poignant once again, Ethel.