The Mural

The mural

It brings me great sadness as I reminiscence

As an artist, I never imagined I'd be part of this madness

I just left a funeral, now I'm painting a mural for a fallen friend of mine

For me it’s hard when I realize this young star created by God will no longer shine

A young mother of two on her way home alone tried to live her life to the fullest

All the dreams she followed, now she won’t see tomorrow because of a few stray bullets

In the wrong place at the wrong time is the line that comes to mind

My soul is aching my heart is breaking for the children she left behind

Young boys left to grow to be men without the possibility of having mom as a friend

Children can’t comprehend, as a grown man I don’t understand why her life had to end

So with each stroke of my brush tears inside I cry for a person who was close to me

I ask God why he chose me; no answer, perhaps this is the way it is suppose to be

As I pick up a can of paint that sprays, I again wonder why young life had to end this way

One of God’s singing angels silenced by the violence that took place yesterday

With her blood the sidewalk is tainted, people gather to talk as the mural was painted

Tears flowed on a familiar face that obviously didn’t know; the person later fainted

Respects were paid in the form of flowers laid means plenty people will miss her

I’m sure they’ll never be none more than me; my soul is empty without my older sister.

Written by

Emerson Welch