Sally Buckner – Closure

June 30, 2014 | By | 3 Replies More

“What I want is closure,” whispers
the wife of the murdered man,
blinking into the camera, “what I want—
no, what we need,” sweeping her hand
at the clump of kindred behind her,
“after all these years, long years,
lonely years,
is closure.”
Turns to the window, transfixed
by the wavering glow of candles
held outside in wordless vigil
for the man who will, at two a.m.,
be poisoned by the State.
Shakes her wispy curls, speaks once more,
voice firmer, her single prayer, her one demand:
“Closure.”

He yearns for closure, too,
the white-maned father gazing
at his greying son who has never uttered a word
nor clasped in knotted fingers pencil,
ball, or fork. So does the one-time wife
whose one-time husband frolics
in a mansionette two blocks away
with his one-time secretary.
And the frantic daughter searching
for the wandering father
who cannot recall the route to anywhere.

Nursing scars and tallying losses—
father too soon gone,
mother too long lingering,
child’s dreams withered, and ah!
the heart, triply bruised
by guilt, rejection, failure—
I offer this uncomforting morsel:
in life’s library, search for closure
on the shelves of fiction.

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Category: Knowing

Comments (3)

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  1. Kerry Holjes says:

    The honesty in this poem speaks from the point of a woman who has lived it, understands it and has sufficient steel in her backbone to speak it. Your poetry always moves me, Sally Buckner. You are a master crafter of words. Thank you for letting us share this with our readers.

  2. Kavanaugh says:

    What a wrap-up! Those words will stick with me.

  3. Thank you for your kind words. I think almost all of us have some situation for which we want closure–sometimes desperately. Thinking of my own life, I know that I had to settle for acceptance; closure has been impossible.

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