Poem/Song Title:  Lori

The Holidays again among us

Conscious of time lost

of Loved ones.

To google I searched, 

with excuses defused,

a lost foster sister, and time to peruse.

A vast internet

And in life’s moments

the body grows tense and disoriented.

I could not believe that the page had a date

  and the date was the year

that Lori’s life had ended.

Don’t believe the Lies.  It’s not really you.

Don’t believe the pain.  Believe the true you.


Quickly to find a family one to connect to.

In came an email I wished to undo.

A kind family one

 wrote of struggles with life.

How Lori couldn’t fit in

 her skin

— heavy losses

Her wounded heart 



 away her strifes.

How this was the end, It felt like a knife.

I couldn’t believe the pain in my tears.

I had seen her then…

Distracted by my

      need of her

         as a witness

          to a past…this was my sin.

—I didn’t see her fears.

In the in and out of visits

 through years

With those 12 Step Rooms

She had worked 


the Medicated Beers.

All of the sudden the room seemed to shake.

It was a still, loud voice

that would cause a remake.

WAIT a minute here.

There’s been an illegal


My memory of Lori, which is like you and me

Needs to be defended.

Don’t believe the Lies.

There’s a true you.

There’s a true me.

I remember a Strong Lori.

Not the prettiest girl 

  in the room.

Because of heart, guts, and wit,

  the boys would swoon.

There on the bunk bed

A Cigarette in One Hand

Overlapping many books, she had just read.

Seven or more girls telling far tales

  All in our wounded, pain stricken heads.

Her heart listened closely, the pain cutting edge.

Past Abuse, violence, childhood injustice

Molesting-neighborly, fake psychiatrists,

 Cruel abandonment, severe poverty, suicide, incest.

The talks were long.  Emotions endless.

Her Caring gave Celestial Guidance

  Resurrecting tough girls’ pained Renaissance.

If this is hard to hear, pray for those who live it.

Don’t Believe the Pain.

Don’t believe the Lies.

See the True You.

Keep the Inner Eye.

   Even those Ones talked


 on that Old Bunk Bed

   Even they, are Somehow

   Soulfully Misread.

Like my Sister Lori…

There’s a true You.  There’s a true Me.

It is all trumped in Eternity.

Don’t believe the Lies.

Remember the true You.

Remember the true Me.

I will always remember the true Lori.

With love…. Thank you for reading my poem.

From Pamela Lynne.. Alias the Poet…FeMiNEM.