I couldn't talk about it, so I wrote a poem

birds sang sweetly as I stood at the family tomb inherited my hair a flowing river in the wind heart drowning in a sea of tears tracing the names engraved as clouds sailed across the sun a chill filled my heart leaving ... I followed the road to the gate passing the office it beckoned to me I asked who was buried at my plot the list of names was familiar then, the lady said, "and the baby" BABY ! the year matched . . . this was my baby supposed to be adopted now, I find he has been dead all these years why, why, did my parents not tell me ? devastation and grief come like chains of lead I had searched for him and they let me can I forgive my mom and dad, grandma oh, my life is weather-stained with sadness I could not talk about it as everyone who would know is dead now so I write this poem about a little boy who never saw the sky and never felt this mothers loving arms I have had his name engraved in stone told my sister and brother. . . and we stood holding hands looking at the name of a little boy who was a secret buried in a cold grave now, a boy with a family who weeps his death . . .