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 McElroy

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