Shattered

ELIZABETH ANN JOHNSON-MURPHREE

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On a warm summer day, an old soul returned to a

place where parts of it remain for years. Waiting

while misplaced pieces of it floated through life on

waves of tears. Many gathered on this day all had the

same ancestral blood flowing through their veins. Some

came out of respect; the unbroken circle… was there for

gain.

These mortals had tried to keep the old soul away from this

final commemoration. They did not care about its many years

of painful isolation. Death had not fractured the unbroken circle

had gone unchanged for years. The return of this old soul brought

to the cloistered multitude panic and fear.

Disregarded, invisible with no right to be heard, the Old soul was

damned in their every fearful word. Watched closely, made to feel

like a thief, an intruder daring to be a part of their hypocritical grief.

The old soul…

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