Lost

[Bob Pacey]

Realised I had not posted this as a members Poem .

Lost

She lay there in the dirt and dust just off Collins street
needle tracks up both her arms no shoes upon her feet.

In the grime filled filthy doorway of an old abandoned shop
though people passed her lying there none took the time to stop.

A Vinnies worker found her and recoiled at the sight
a piece of flotsam on life's ocean another victim of the night.

How long she had been dead it was impossible to tell
the bruises on her battered face spoke of living hell.

Was she here because she chose to be or forced to be by fate
the product of a fractured family torn apart by hate.
or
Did she come in from the country wide eyed and full of hope
a runaway who'd lost her dreams consumed by sex and dope.

Would her body now lie in some morgue broken and defiled
Would no one mourn her passing for she was some mothers child.

A story told so often but to which there is no happy end
such loss of innocence and beauty so hard to comprehend
for
This is the land of plenty where all are equal so they say
but are some more so than others? Are there no shades of grey?

So we go about our daily lives but we all must bear the cost
nothing changes, life goes on and another broken soul is lost.

Bob Pacey (C)

[Maureen K Clifford]

With the increased concern about ICE and other drugs sadly I suspect things like this will become more and more common - a piece of flotsam on life's ocean indeed