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
And now.

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 I wondered why cherub-faced
Uncle Gwylim had never remarried.


Author's Note: A great-great aunt's suicide

Posted on 12/26/2018
Copyright © 2020 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.

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