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Poem

At the end of a family line
she is lost on a bare branch that leads nowhere,
A twig extended into just sky
is her last journey
it is a finger pointing at an unmarked end.

I imagine her a lost little girl,
somebody's orphan or castaway.

When that child cries (which is often),
for the totally lost are inconsolable,
then, I wake up in that emptiness
where nothing branches
I mind-crawl as near as I can get to her.

The closer I get the more a cold wind roars
until that tree of far flung relationship's
sways back and forth.
I try to keep calm, call to her
as if she were a cat
I were trying to coax down from a high place.

She is always looking away from me.
I think she hears my voice
I am sure she knows me, but how and from where?

I can't hold on to this slim rocking branch any longer
and have to edge back to where the limbs
are thick and strong. As I retreat
slowly she fades away or is it I that fades?

She has no recorded history
but we are definitely both on the same DNA ladder
only some rungs are broken
and they can never now be mended.

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