Mary Margaret Klinkhammer

A rose like any other who In Dublin lived and Dublin died. Her life defined by place of birth And the space she occupied. A name that mesmerized. I heard if first over drinks A remembrance softly chanced In talk that doesn’t matter Recollections of lives that never danced Reduced to simple banter. Religious schools and God was King Ghosts rising from the past And where our darling Mary K Drew breath from first to last With rules the strictest order. Girls unseen, unheard, understanding Things unspoken, would shed their skins At heaven’s gate with dreams wrapped all in faith Their steps so light and without sins Their hearts their only burden. a poem by Susan...