Into the Forest and all the Way Through

by Cynthia Pelayo

and gain all the terror she holds, Before you there, a girl who no longer is a girl, a girl who is bone and moss

Leaves tangled within her eye sockets, stretched down to her finger bone

Forgetting to remember your scent, they are forgetting to Remember your name, so I will walk, and I will climb, and I will drive, so that your picture does not fade

she became upset With him, and walked away into the forest around midnight, leaving her phone, and Belongings behind. Her boyfriend did not report her missing until four days later.

She left work at the time many awake, as the sun rises, And light enters.

deserting The memory of a wife who worked when all of us were Sleeping, and who disintegrated into the glorious golden Morning rays when all of our eyes opened

not to speak or the demons and vampires Inhabiting us would break through our skin, and take over

Possessions and spirits, cleansed only by a concoction of bleach Drank daily, burned back beatings, burnt feet, cigarette lighters And visions of a pale little girl on the floor, limp and cold The twisted sickness of parents who ingested poison, saying it Was their children who needed cleaning and not them, monsters Addicted to vice, culminated in a closet with a pruning saw Incinerated in the family’s fireplace, remnants scattered across The Sacramento River. A year of abuse continued on, and

it was Not until a teacher found chemical burns on my skin that I Could finally tell the story of the little sister I had and the Demons who threw her away and told me never to tell

The necklace that Hung around her neck, of a black crystal And a wizard holding a tiger’s eye pendant Some of the powers of the stone are believed To be the release of fear and anxiety, and To aid with decisions, discernment and Understanding. Perhaps this stone released You of any fear in those last few moments Of violation, perhaps this stone can radiate The energy to someone, anyone who can Unlock the secret of your last moments You are no longer on the ground, where you

what good is checking on your neighbors if you are unwilling to save Them?

You Are Not Looking, I Am Right Here

tainted by the touch of someone Who did not love you.

no young Girl should be rewarded with terror in search of adventure

And when police Officers finally approached the man suspected in your Murder, in the murder of Elizabeth, and Tammy and Mary, And Rosario, and many more — he killed himself, because

That is what cowards do.

It remains a mystery, they say. But there is no mystery when someone Knows, and others won’t speak,

Shame on Those that cradle those girl’s cries in Their memory. Bookshelves now tell Of their suffering.

So many men say they do not know What happened to the now missing women who were once under their care.

Free days from school are days made for magic

if there’s anyone Who could know how to spin a lie How to weave a web, hide a body, It would be someone who dances With the law

Did you fall like Alice, or were You pushed?

We claim her, our Dorchester Jane Doe Found stuffed in a chimney, and covered In soot.

He however was seen And known for violence, verbal and physical, threats Of rape, charged with kidnapping, stalking, possession

Keep drifting, and your teddy bear can’t be Found

You were lost and did not know where to Find yourself, and so the night moved on Smelling of sour beer, and tasting of bitter Tequila.

You started the questions, but who has All of the answers?

later more of your enchantments Were found scattered miles away from Home

People who are special like sea shells, or North Dakota Sunsets,

and she lay there out in the open, under Sun, moon, and stars through winter and thawed in spring And grass shot up between her fingers in that time, and rain Fell on her forehead during that time, the same forehead that Had received kisses from her mother, and reasonings were

Your mother left him, and he Left bodies of women,

but he Refused to disclose where you lie, in slumber Eternity, the cruelest of secrets

Island girls. Blessed by the sun and damned By everything in between.

She spent her days drinking coffee, writing poetry and journal entries In a coffeehouse

To capture you, a living, pinned butterfly, brightly colored and Fluttering beneath a hold. Where is that blue ball gown? Do you Still dance in it? What

I Am Gone

And now at night when I look Up into the celestial body of Creation I only see darkness

Late into the night, working into the twilight hours, between school and work

She never slept,

and they found her mother years after her daughter went missing Clutching a sun-worn, tear-stained picture of her in her quinceañera dress Dead on the kitchen floor, her heart split in so many pieces,

her memory now joined Forever with the missing and murdered, forgotten and ignored, women,