From A Clear Blue Sky

A poem

photo from author

What was it that compelled me to read your book
I knew of you, but not how much we have in common
eery, and yet we have never met

Our families are linked, we are one degree of separation
you are descended from royalty, the Queen was kind to me
yet you have declined her invitations

Not her hospitality when your family needed it
we are all flesh, blood, and bone, with scars
not just corporeal but of the mind

Your twin was blown up in a boat off Ireland
my twin never saw the light of life, 
abandoned me
to the living, with its stones to stumble

My father’s eyes welled with tears, I paid attention
too young to comprehend your loss, already known
in my life, I had to pull my own bootstraps

How was it I heard about your book and wrote to you
I don’t recall, except the compunction, the need
to read your tale, so brave yet neglecting self

Your loss was unique within your family, alone
I feel a hint of what you experienced, but not the same
post-traumatic stress is such a mindless disorder

Published in The Lark

Dedicated to Timothy Knatchbull


By Chrisssie Morris Brady

I've read poetry since I was nine and have written creatively since I was fourteen (probably long before that). After writing book reviews and social comment, I decided I wanted to write poetry. I have no formal training, but I surround myself with poets and their writing. I am honing my craft.
I have two published collections which I don't feel good about, but have been published by and other publications. I live on the south coast of England with my daughter. I am seriously ill.

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