[laieanna]: 518.Poetry.Sara Bea

Sara Bea




Sara Bea country sweet,
Grew up strict and godly.
Life as a child brought her trials,
Abandoned by Ma, Beat by Pa,
Never did she spat a name,
For pure of heart, all she’d say,
“God takes care of me.”

Pa grew sick and ached.
School was nothing after eight.
Sara Bea had no shame,
As she cared and tended everything.
Teased at stores and scolded more,
She just smiled and said,
“God takes care of me.”

Time passed by and Pa did die.
Bills would not go away.
A man then came, for Sara’s hand one day.
She took to him as his wife, spending days working
And nights out of his drunken sight.
Still she kept on thinking,
“God takes care of me.”

With no money to spend, all was carried away and then,
Quick was her husband to wander and stray.
So upon the streets she made her stay.
Cold with rain and sweat with sun,
Sara Bea closed her eyes to pray,
“God takes care of me.”

Alleys were home and strangers unkind.
Sara Bea walked the streets,
Huddled in her shrines.
All safety was clouded in mind,
Though night was a fearful time.
Hunger was all she thought as she chanted,
“God takes care of me.”

Five shots rang out, two hit the chest.
Sara Bea fell to the pavement,
Hands upon her bloody breast.
Tears pooled on her dirty skin,
As her eyes were fixed on the stars ahead.
She whispered one last time,
“God, please just take me.”




Written by Jennifer C. Brown (Browning at the time)  Est. 1998