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Journey a Collection of Writings by Merrill Guillory
Journey a Collection of Writings by Merrill Guillory
Journey a Collection of Writings by Merrill Guillory
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Journey a Collection of Writings by Merrill Guillory

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Come...come, walk into my soul, the pages of my heart await you. Turn every page and walk with me as we move hand in hand into that world impervious to sound or nature. It is here where we will experience an awakening of absorbed emotions and dreams produced from the pages of my book. The entrance is open,
welcome.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateDec 14, 2017
ISBN9781370296637
Journey a Collection of Writings by Merrill Guillory
Author

Merrill Guillory

Merrill Guillory, was the third of seven children born to Gervis and Lillian Boutte Guillory from the rural community of Mallet, Louisiana. Though the family moved from Mallet to Lake Charles, Louisiana at a young tender age, it would be the stories of his parents and grandparents that would shape the way his perspective of life would unfold through words written in his poems. His stories are told from the eyes of the heart and the experiences of living in an conflicting world of Creole and African American culture. A culture shaped and defined in the world of “Jim Crow,” and the painful loss of those who walked in that world through an intimate expression of nature found in the pages of “Journey.”

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    Journey a Collection of Writings by Merrill Guillory - Merrill Guillory

    Ali

    Shattered Dreams

    About the Author

    MEMORIES

    Father, Gervis Guillory ; Mother, Lillian Guillory

    Gravesite of my brother, Ronald James Guillory

    Dec. 19, 1946 -- February. 21, 1947

    Ascending

    Life bursts forth, a wailing yell

    Little eyes piercing the unknown

    Tiny hands and feet so frail

    Writhing face that knows not where he belongs

    Her arms caress that which was part of her

    A tender, gentle, loving smile so warm

    Her caring touch, soft kiss, her soothing face

    His little eyes, search and meet...now there’s calm

    Her smile is as fresh as the morning dew

    Her benevolent spirit breathes forth a new horizon

    A light shined forth with a burst of hue

    loving, kindness, graciousness to name a few

    A moment in time, captured in space

    Splintered memories, a void of fractured parts

    Precious moment locked in time is now far removed

    Only memories supplant his grieving heart

    A shadow hovers over, life slowly moves away

    Deep into this place, I know not where

    Only her eyes speak, from a place far away

    Dimmer, dimmer, dim...I know not where

    In this hallow chamber of dementia’s mind

    Deep into the shadow of this forsaken hell

    Innocence pierces this dark and shadowy time

    Her soft hands reach, she utters a wailing yell

    Momma, momma! He cries, she only stares

    From great depth she now descends

    A lone tear drop from he knows not where

    Into her mother's arms she now ascends

    The night is past, light has dawned with lasting peace

    Joy indescribable, she’s now embraced

    He caresses her into His gentle spirit of infinite care

    her loving heart awaits His moment of timeless grace

    Elysium

    Dementia came early in the life of mother, robbing her of her precious senior years, and would also claim her most intimate memory. Her first child would forever remain on her lips and her eyes would tell the story of the pain she experienced in the second month of nineteen and forty-seven. Mom and dad lived in a small rural house, more likened to a shed, ten miles from the nearest city and doctor’s care. In the early morning hours on a cold windy morning Gervis and Lillian Guillory laid their first born into his final resting place, unknowing that new life was taking form inside of her. In their memory, I share this intimate story Mom would repeat so dear to her heart.

    An oil lamp cast a somber shadow

    as the flickering light danced upon the walls.

    The winter of nineteen forty-seven was harsh,

    unforgiving to land, life and all.

    In its grip none were spared, crops withered,

    Life struggled to survive.

    She walked back and forth

    in the tiny room of that makeshift shack.

    He fought the wind and snow ten miles away,

    in search of a doctor to bring back.

    Desperation would not compromise with nature,

    firmly she held her grip this day.

    Cradled in her buxom dear to her heart,

    his tiny listless eyes pierced her bleeding soul.

    With each agonizing step,

    tears rolled softly from her cheeks to the floor.

    Grimly the reaper made its presence,

    his tiny eyes closed to open no more.

    As the reaper-wind hollers through the cracked walls,

    and the sky with angry bellowing clouds relents.

    A beam of light reflects on the make-shift hall,

    A tiny passage for a tiny soul ascends

    heavenward toward Elysium.

    On a cold brisk February morning,

    the young couple stood

    beneath the shade of a tall oak.

    Back to dust their young child of two months

    sleeps in silent peace.

    From heaven light came forth,

    into heaven, light returned.

    The doors of Elysium opened,

    from his ethereal home new life stirs.

    Under the shade of that tall oak,

    the young couple grieved their first born,

    in her fertile womb new life began

    and again they were three.

    Father

    We never had that one on one,

    those kind of talks that Ward had with Wally and the Beaver.

    You never came home from the office,

    but from a pit with callous hands

    that gripped a shovel in back-bending work.

    You cared deeply, but didn’t know how to express it,

    not the way Mr. Cleaver did.

    We knew early that world was not real,

    not like the one we lived in.

    You gave your best, your caring was harsh,

    and at times the relief of a drink was sought.

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