'Neath leaden skies, amongst windblown, agèd trees
Lies an old graveyard swept by moss laden breeze.
Each stone cries a volume of heartbroken years,
While one, yew-shaded, marked "Maude" weeps unshed tears.
Now only a broken heart and shattered dreams
Telling of long lonely days and unvoiced screams
Caged within her chest those nightmarish years long;
No more able to enjoy the wood thrush song.
Tongues of old wives wag in the village below,
Afire with wild rumours why Jed had to go.
One night in mid-June he suddenly took leave,
Never minding his wife and children would grieve.
Alas! Jed—tall, handsome, dark with manner suave,
Had a weakness for drink, neighbours never forgave;
Blaming Maude for her melancholy silence,
The reason they claim for poor Jed's defiance.
Early each Sabbath morn she sat in the pew
With her weary heart bleeding and pain anew;
Sighing as she watches each mother rejoice;
Asking God why heaven gave her no such choice.
Lo! There sits gold-haired Edith, babe at her breast,
Beaming radiantly how much God has blest.
As if at some angel her proud husband smiles
While with dimples and coos Baby Jane beguiles.
She recalls little Willie who died with flu,
Red-headed and freckled with eyes of green-blue;
Mischievous at seven and so full of life;
His memory pierces her heart with a knife.
Beside him rests sober Alice only four,
Whose grey eyes brightened with each rap at the door.
Day after day waiting for Papa in vain;
Little knowing she'd never see him again.
Homeward she trudges, July's skies ablaze,
Scorching heat of midday sun's blinding rays.
Lo! There runs little Willie with open arms
That long lost freckled face her doleful heart warms.
Behind him skips Alice, her pale face aglow.
Maude's heart quickens as tears start to flow.
O! How can this be true? She feels in a daze.
A flashback of time in this sweltering haze?
"O, Mamma! We're home," they so merrily cry.
Her arms outstretched with sobs as their small feet fly.
Her heart soars with rapture—then suddenly gone!
Vanished fore'er like glad dreams at break of dawn.
Heartbroken anew, she trudges home again
To a lonely cottage while tears spill as rain.
Before her looming a thousand bleak morrows
Stabbed with yesterday's knives and endless sorrows.
As years drag by, old wives stop to mock and scorn.
"Crazy Maude Heathcliffe!" Sneering at her forlorn;
Blaming her yet for Jed's wild drunken ways,
A judgment from God for the rest of her days.
One morn—silence! When Edith raps at her door.
Gasping she runs across the creaking old floor
Where Maude sits quietly on ladder-back chair.
"Wake up! Shame on you! Why is it you don't care?"
'Neath June skies, pines whisper, silvery moonbeams play
'Round yew-watched bed where Maude's slept years since that day
When Edith found her in the ladder-back chair.
A mocking bird scolds, "Shame! Maude! Why don't you care!"
**~Hilda~
November 20, 2012