Mary’s laughter echoes like a cry
of final tight farewells to empty walls.
Memories break the surface with a sigh;
remembrance pangs in heavy hollow tolls.
For seventy years, like magnets bound by force
of opposite attraction, sisters always knew
the other’s tugging presence in her course,
deep traditions mending them like glue.
Her empty chair, the gathering’s gaping hole,
the fading mark of her unique impress,
unbroken silence, ringing toll on toll,
but sorrow clings to hope in our distress.
We will not find her here, this empty room,
this hollow world as empty as a womb.

Aunt Mary, August 22, 1935-January 16, 2015