[Glenn Wright]

Sarah

In the shallow cleft of the delicate chin
and around the corners of the eyes,
the proof she belonged to his sorry kin
was there to see as she ate her fries
one by one, licking off the salt,
one hand curved on her tattered pack.
Did she know that none of this was her fault?
Her mother’s death had summoned back
her uncle, a memory long gone.
From pipes and needles, Sarah, his niece,
nine years old, like a wary fawn
in hiding, was rescued by the police.
He hadn’t seen her for three long years.
He hadn’t been there to dry her tears.

He hadn’t been there to dry the tears
of a little girl swept into the welter
of crime and drugs, of nighttime fears,
of dangerous grownups and unsafe shelter.
She had her mother’s fragility,
yet somehow seemed to keep herself whole.
She hid her vulnerability
with surly silence and steely control.
Meeting her gaze, he felt the shame
for his sins of omission. In truth, his life
and his sister’s had been much the same.
He had lost his way and his loving wife.
In sobriety he’d begun to progress,
and the last year had brought him some success.

The last year had brought him some success,
but he carried the wreckage of his sin.
He knew his weakness in facing stress
and how unreliable he had been.
But here was a child in misery.
The social worker had left them alone,
guessing correctly that he would be
conflicted. Her voice had a weary tone.
She watched them through the mirror’s glass,
unseen, but weighing, judging, knowing.
Sarah let no emotion pass
across her face, the pressure growing
until he reached out and took her hand,
saw a smile, and felt his heart expand.

Her smile had made his heart expand.
His lawyer handled the documents.
His life took a turn he had not planned
in defiance of logical arguments.
For the next few, happy, precious years
He was blessed to serve as her protector,
Helping her overcome her fears,
not letting the ghosts of her past affect her.
Of course, she secretly fell in love
with a boy whose life had been complicated
by problems her uncle could not approve,
but, hoping to fix him, she tolerated.
Her instincts were to try to save
the wretched, making them strong and brave.

Her uncle had never been strong or brave,
but he wanted to be a better man.
Now nineteen, Sarah managed to save
the money she needed to follow her plan.
She had a job and three months’ rent,
and she’d found a place where she could stay.
Letting her go was a painful event,
but he knew she needed to make her way.
The first few months there was joy in seeing
her find her footing and spread her wings.
By winter he saw that her life was being
darkened by shadows of frightening things.
The boyfriend moved in, whom he never had met,
and her phone calls carried the sound of regret.

In a phone call she told him with halting regret
that her boyfriend had struck her. He knew the type.
They controlled their women with fist and threat,
but with men they showed a cowardly stripe.
Her uncle feared for her jeopardy,
but she’d thrown him out that very day.
He knew how deadly such men could be,
yet he let her convince him he’d stay away.
Her mother had boyfriends prone to abuse.
He wondered how Sarah had suffered, seeing
her mother degraded by those who reduce
a woman’s rights as a human being.
He felt himself growing more alarmed,
so he went to be with her to keep her unharmed.

He went to her place and found her unharmed.
Her boyfriend had run off after their fight.
He feared he’d come back, revengeful and armed
and discovered he’d threatened her life that night.
They made themselves dinner and talked about trifles.
The boy rushed up to the door, bursting in
with one of his father’s hunting rifles.
He aimed it at her with a psychopath’s grin.
The uncle lunged to capture the gun,
but the blast discharged before he could stop him.
The madman turned and started to run.
The uncle fired the rifle to drop him.
Sarah was lifeless with blood on her skin
and the shallow cleft of her delicate chin.
————————
Edits:
S1L3: my > his
S1L8: Her mother, my sister, had died in a shack; > Her mother’s death had summoned back
S1L9: The men she lived with, all long gone. > her uncle, a memory long gone.
S1L10: my > his
S1L13: I > He
S1L14: I should have . . . > He had not . . .
S2L1: I should have done more than dry the tears > He hadn’t been there to dry the tears
S2L9: when I met her gaze, I . . . > Meeting her gaze, he
S2L10: my . . .my > his . . .his
S2L11: my > his
S2L12: I . . . my . . . a > He . . . his . . . his
S2L13: I’d > he’d
S2L14: me > him
S3L1: me > him
S3L2: I . . .my > he . . .his
S3L3: I . . .my > He . . .his
S3L4: I > he
S3L5: . . .who needed me. > . . .in misery.
S3L6: us > them
S3L7: I guessed she knew that I. . . > guessing correctly that he. . .
S3L9: ,I’m sure, > them
S3L13: until I reached . . . > until he reached out
S3L14: my > his
S4L1: my > his
S4L2: My > His
S4L3: My . . .I > His . . .he
S4L6: I > he
S4L11: she knew I : her uncle
S4L13: I hope she knew how much she gave > Her instincts were to try to save
S4L14: to me by growing strong and brave. > the wretched, making them strong and brave.
S5L1: I never had. . . > Her uncle had never. . .
S5L2: I > he
S5L6: . . .in which to . . .> . . .where she could . . .
S5L8: I > he
S5L11: I > he
S5L13: I > he
S6L1: me > him
S6L2: I knew his type. > He knew the type.
S6L5: I urged her to come home to me. > Her uncle feared for her jeopardy,
S6L7: I > He
S6L8: I . . .me > he. . .him
S6L10: I > he
S6L13: I . . .myself > He . . .himself
S6L14: I > he
S7L1: I > He
S7L3: I > He
S7L4: I > and
S7L5: We . . .ourselves > They. . . themselves
S7L6: I heard him rush up to the door and burst in > The boy rushed up to the door, bursting in
S7L8: hideous > psychopath’s
S7L9: I lunged to draw the barrel toward me, > The uncle lunged to capture the gun,
S7L10: but the gun discharged before I could stop him. > but the blast discharged before he could stop him.
S7L11: He turned toward the door and started to flee. > The madman turned and started to run.
S7L12: I smashed his head through a window to drop him. > The uncle fired the rifle to drop him.