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Hanging

entry picture

I saw you in my dream again

last night.

You looked at me accusingly

unsmiling

angry, disappointed

disapproving.

I ran after you

calling, begging you to

stop.

You turned around andĀ 

disappeared

mingling with the crowd.

I sat down on the dusty road

as I've done beforeĀ 

countless times

crying

wondering why you never talk.

Why you never tell me why.

When they broke down that door

and saw you swinging from the beam

No one knew why.

I used to follow you

everywhere.

I was your favourite.

Or so I thought.

When I heard the news

I went out and got

plastered.

The rain mixed with my

tears

dulling nothing

easing nothing

holding your grieving mother

who was set in stone.

And why are you so angry again?

Did you expect me to follow you

here

as well?

*Written for my favourite uncle who took his own life, without leaving a clue as to why.*

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Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 23rd Aug 2014 16:43

This is really good, using powerful, evocative imagery controlled with great finesse so that the tragedy is clearly twofold - for your uncle and yourself.

The ending is superb. May I ask whether you might have meant -

'Did you expect me to follow you
there
as well?'

'here' seems to indicate that 'death' is shared. I could be wrong. It's just a thought.

I don't know why others have not commented on such an excellent piece of work. Perhaps they don't like that you have not identified yourself in any way.

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