The improper goodbye, leaving all answers unresolved, death. The one way to eradicate all problems for oneself, leaving behind responsibilities as if they are an inheritance for the next. Summon up your strength and courage to take on the role that was so insufficiently filled by the patron. Work harder than the slaves of the 18 hundreds trying to make a better name for your seeds to carry… Everyday she works loads meant for 100 to carry, everyday she Saunders on to the same ear wrenching song, everyday she puts forth an effort that god himself seems to have giving up on… Crying only when it rains, in an effort to mask her tears, and hide her pain. For the strong do not weep, they hold their heads high and keep drumming to a rhythmic beat… She knows only a forward path, never looking back and not once does she stop to enjoy the Vidalia’s at her feet, nor does she look to the clouds to admire the images the angels have made for her. No, no, no. All she knows is work, her only goal is to make a new name, and in doing so that’s all she has left behind, to remind the world of her existence. She has left scars, and battered tissue, sweat, tears and blood for her remembrance. She left no legacy. She left no inheritance, because she left no children. She left behind her physical remains, and as her soul made its departure, she finally got a glimpse of what she herself left. She left a sense of selflessness, tilled grounds, green grass, fed mouths, and sustenance for the earth. The work of a million men, done by one, so as her soul gave way to the pull of the Lords welcoming; she finally looked towards the heavens with tears in her eyes, and a restored heart, that was left broken by the many, many men and women before her, who ignored the tears of the helpless, and the commandments of the lord.
She Left
