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A REFUGE FOR POETS WHO WRITE IN THE LYRIC TRADITION,

WITH RHYME AND METER, WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC




FOR PAMELA JANE

Years ago my sister died.
She committed suicide.
Left me here to wonder why.
Left me here to cry and cry.
Christ forgives her; why cant I?

I think what she did was wrong.
Life is not so very long.
Sometimes we cannot be strong.
Find the will to carry on.
After darkness comes the dawn.

Near the end her eyes revealed
All that she had long concealed.
I could see, but could not feel
Pain that only time could heal,
And I know her pain was real.

She never wanted to be near
The very ones who held her dear,
She never knew why she was here,
And only death could end her fear.
Only now is all this clear.

I could no more stop her pain
Than stop the wind or stop the rain.
My love for her was all in vain.
Ill not see her alive again.
Only memories now remain.

I always thought wed both grow old.
The loss I feel cannot be told.
But who am I to be so cold
To one lost sheep outside the fold?
God have mercy on her soul.

Saranac Lake, New York, 1996



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