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May 13, 2024


By Lillian Queen



De mortuis nil nisi bonum
Don't speak ill of the dead
The world has gone dark
The one who made me whole is gone
Leaving me alone in this world I can't survive in
Their warmth still lingers in the hearts of their loved ones
Like a brightly lit flame that has gone out
It is now that much dimmer in this tired home
The synchronized thrumming of the rain
Echoes through our home
Making me feel less alone


De mortuis nil nisi bonum
Do not speak ill of the dead
Or they will haunt you
To their family and friends they were wonderful
They were the epitome of perfection
Smart, "kind," "forgiving" clever and quick-witted
He was good with academics and had lots of friends
He was "patient" and never raised his voice
But they never saw what was behind the curtains
What he did behind that velvet illusion
My fear of being hurt further prevented me from telling anyone
But no one ever questioned my want to please him
Or why I never stood up to his "teasing" comments

People say that if one speaks ill of the dead they'll be haunted
But what if I'm already haunted
A poison is what he was to me
I'm scared that he'll hurt me even though he can't anymore
I've secluded myself even more now, not because he's dead
But because I can't do anything without him
I can't do something without the voice in my head asking "will he approve?"


De mortuis nil nisi bonum
He's hurt me and kept me prisoner for so many years
But he's gone
And I'm free
But I still feel chained and trapped
Relief is an understatement of what I wish to feel
But the guilt of being happy is too overwhelming
I have finally reached out for the help I've wanted for so long
And learned to move on and surround myself with people who care
I can finally heal
The synchronized thrumming of the rain
Echoes through my home
Comforting me as I sit alone
It's a shame that he hated the rain

Article © Lillian Queen. All rights reserved.
Published on 2019-04-22
Image(s) © Lillian Queen. All rights reserved.
4 Reader Comments
Dan Mulhollen
10:48:31 PM
A good poem is often a puzzle into the mind of the poet. Often autobiographical, but how and why? I've had some humorous run-ins with misinterpretations of my work so, even if I have my theories to this work, I will remain silent about them. The poem and artwork are quite good, and it is good to see another talented member of the Pilarski/Queen family joining Pikers. Welcome!
11:24:38 AM
Excellent. Dark, brooding, yet just a bit of hope, or at least a hope of hope
08:08:39 PM
Very evocative words and pictures. Congratualations on making the cover, too!
03:27:13 PM
First, Congratulations on surviving 17 years, and still going. A good, moving poem, accompanied with drawings that says it all.
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