MISTY, NASTY, GHASTLY MYSTERY

Today, the world is misty.
The world outside is nasty.
The ghosts inside are ghastly.
How to uncover the mystery?

I wish I could see more clearly.
I wish I understood what I heard.
I wish it didn’t give such a scare.
I wish I could dare.

Sheets of ice unfold upon a sordid sea.
Heavily smudged as a soiled quilt.
Having eyes yet failing to see.
Caught up in cold, wet-hot clutches.

Going down into secret madness.
Sinking unwillingly into such
Has the makings of much sadness.
No light, no will; no, not much.

Going down, there is a ray of light!
Gone down, it is a foolish thing.
Down in the abyss, try to take flight!
But deep within are atrophied wings.

Time is wasted in useless regret.
The heart is weakened by needless stress.
The mind withered by agonizing fret.
The whole of it is an unholy mess.

~~Mary Frances Handy (pre-1982)

(Mary Handy Moore)

THEY ALL DIED ON EASTER SUNDAY, JESUS ROSE ON THE SABBATH DAY.

Following April 19, 2026, after 31-year-old Shamar Elkins of Shreveport, Louisiana, took the lives of his seven children and a cousin, all young children, and then either killed himself or was shot by authorities, I found this poem pinned to a clipboard waiting to be added to my notebook again. It was written decades ago. The past week brought us together again. Over the years, when I’d come across this poem in my notebook, I’d wonder sometimes what incident or circumstances inspired it. I put it down to the knowledge of mental illness in my own family, which has brought much heartache to us in ways nobody shares or talks about, which means in some cases that “it didn’t happen,” but it did.

 Also, after reading every entry I can on his Facebook pages, attempting to get more clarity about this darkness that overtook a whole family and is causing torment to a whole community of mourners, I am understanding more about it. Origins. I’ll self-talk in writing about this more at another time.

 The children’s names and ages. Say their names:

SHAMAR ELKINS’ CHILDREN WITH WIFE Shaneiqua Pugh Elkins

• Jayla Elkins, 3
• Shayla Elkins, 5
• Kayla Pugh, 6
• Layla Pugh, 7
• Markaydon Pugh, 10

SHAMAR ELKINS’ THREE CHILDREN WITH CHRISTINA SNOW

• Sariahh Snow, 11
• Khedarrion Snow, 6
• and Braylon Snow, 5

 Say his name if you honestly can. (But by grace there go I):

 Shamar Elkins. Thank him for his service. He was hopeful and prayed to God about it to the end. But, like beloved Whitney Houston, he was not strong enough in faith and lost his battle, but not the war.

Without Light, Empty Shells Won’t Repent

HIM

He didn’t know them,

Therefore, he didn’t care

That he killed anonymous people.

He had no remorse, not being capable of it.

He loves the thrill of killing, being a killer.

He loves playing Russian Roulette,

Being the thrill-seeker that he is.

Thus, killing innocents does not upset him.

THEY

They have no character,

Not even a modicum of decency;

So how can they be moral?

Morality evolves in humans,

Else they fail to become that—

Beings unworthy of the name.

For what is a human shell

When the lumen, spurned, rejected,

Withholds the soul’s own light?

The human soul must have a spark

In the human body. Lumen, light.

As the heart, the mind, the emotive

Power evolves within the body,

These refine us when we’re led aright.

The seed, star, evolves every soul.

Yet a fire, light, un-nourished, flickers out.

And the lumen never becomes a flame or a sun.

~ Mary Handy Moore 

 Stones of Darkness

I don’t have very much,

But I have all there is to have.

I don’t know many things,

But I found knowledge in

The uttermost of all

I need knowledge of.

I can’t see much

But I’m a seer,

I see all I need to see

In the raincloud of

Seeable things.

I have no knowledge

But I know, just as

I am also known.

I can hear all things:

Things in heaven

And things in hell.

I can feel all things,

My nerve trunk is

Connected to the Root

To which are joined

All the other roots.

So, daily I’m fearless

While I’m filled with fear.

I’m delightfully hopeful,

While swimming in a

Sea of hopelessness.

I command myself to be brave,

In my daily walk towards

The certainty of death.

I realized I’m Light

Encased in a

Stone of darkness. Live.

~Mary Handy Moore

11-22-24

Allusions and metaphors can be heard and seen throughout this poem; a lyrical one is “I Don’t Know Much,” recorded and released by Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt (1989). There are words found in 1 Corinthians 13:12. The first 22 Stanzas are personal subjective and objective experiences in "the raincloud of knowable things," a phrase used in Theosophy and Transpersonal Psychology. The last 11 Stanzas are ancient and recent experiences and meditation. Unthinkingly, this poem ends up being 11-22 or 33 verses. I never intended that, but it’s as it should be. The picture is not as first seen; I have not been able to prompt a generative AI response to fit the colors and other things exactly as I saw them. For example, I settled for green grass in the end. This vision or dream made me sad for many months.