by Leonard M Hawkes
I did not know of you—
Your older sister was cold
And did not speak to children.
And the circumstances of your death
Were hushed both then
But I found you (or you found me),
And though the pathetic details
Were sketchy at best,
I felt, I saw, I knew
That Truth that lingers
Beyond the grave.
Life was hard:
Your Swiss mother widowed,
Young domestic help.
But what “despondency”
Prescribed for you “carbolic acid”?
And when I visited that neighborhood,
20th Street, the bluff above the river,
I felt only Place
(I’d hoped to feel you lingering).
And where was Uncle Gwylim?
Lost in his own emigration?
Effortlessly, I found your
Markerless rectangle of grass
Well-way from the family,
And your cherub-faced bridegroom?
--Remarried and moved to Idaho.
Author's Note: A great-great aunt's suicide
Posted on 12/26/2018
Copyright © 2022 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.