From a desecrated heart described, stained
the door locked shut, alas, family tree~
family name known, alas.... nothing else.
They buried between the pages of time
long lost, so too the ones that gave shelter,
save the cost of all the years, of my tears.
Who lies there, cold like graveyard, dust to dust,
names, dates, symbols, signs, identity lost?
O, may I not stumble in search of truth.
Would that I could but hold to bleeding heart
a name, a picture, inscribed on a tree,
a leaf among leaves, one that begat me.
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Comments about this poem (Holding On by Jackie Allen )
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