by Leonard M Hawkes
I did not know of you—
Your older sister was cold
And didn’t speak to children—
And the circumstances of your death
Were hushed both then
But I found you:
And though the pathetic details
Were sketchy at best,
I felt, I saw, I knew
That Truth that lingers
Beyond the grave.
And when I visited the scene
Above the park, above the cemetery,
I felt only Place
(I’d hoped to feel you lingering),
And wondered why cherub-faced
Uncle Gwylim never remarried.
Author's Note: A great-great aunt's suicide
Posted on 12/26/2018
Copyright © 2019 Leonard M Hawkes
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/02/19 at 04:44 PM|
A very personal piece. I am finding interesting, intriguing, revealing things about our family thru DNA testing also. Some things can no longer be hidden. I'm sorry you couldn't feel her in the Place but I hope it gives some closure.