Park Broom

The journey seems to take almost forever 
despite the fast-flowing currents of the water 
from Wetheral, to Park Broom down the river

where, in your wake, wandering, walks a daughter
trying to piece the afterlife together 
from Wetheral, to Park Broom down the river.

Thirty-three years is long enough to wonder 
about the current which carried you under
Broomy Hill to Park Broom down the river:

Follow the trail, then stop a while and ponder
the hills beyond, which stood beneath the thunder
the day they found you, lying in the water.

And I would plunge my hands, right then and there
into the bright, flowing darkness of the river
to piece your broken body back together. 

R.I.P. Elizabeth Stakle (neé Wilson) 24.03.58-04.10.90

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