The Unasked and Never Answered

"Still, like air, I rise." ~ Maya Angelou

I turned the heat on last night to chase away the cold;
and I perceived you in the sepulcher of my bones,
the bones that ache with hunger and tears, the great ensouled
that never really knew you, just words turned into stones. 

You could never share what was hidden so deep within;
and I lacked the curiosity or will to know,
lacked the maturity to ask the questions back then
that would haunt me all these years and never let me go.

Silence creates a blank page, absent of history,
absent of all things that give birth to being human,
breeding instead emptiness, a void, a mystery,
and a darkness that no one but you could illumine.

I know not the whereabouts of my ancestral home
nor the tangled branches of my familial tree.
I never knew the source of the pages in my tome
just the broken spine of a felled wingspan in the sea.

Framed from this perspective, I am painted shades of gray,
a revelation in a muddied stream of water.
With storm clouds in my hair, I embrace the hand of day
and rise as though I were someone’s belovèd daughter.

Author's Note

Reviews

[barleygirl]

I started out thinking your poem addressed a romantic beloved, but then it morphed & started to sound as if written possibly for a family member. But the beauty of the writing is that it can apply to ANY beloved. This is not the most flowing poetic expression I've ever read, but I value straightforward sentiments & poets share something weighty & say it powerfully. V2 might be one of the most well-stated things I've ever read about human nature. Brilliant! In the last 2 verses, I started feeling pricked, since I don't believe that family necessarily defines ANYTHING about a person (I came from abusive stock!) . . . but then the last verse sorta morphs this line of thinking into a celebration of whatever we are, whatever we turn out to be, regardless of ancestry (a sentiment I'm wholehearted about!) Fondly, Margie

[Cassie]

Wow....Still I rise, you have nailed this poem quite perfectly

[JTD]

This saturates the eyes with tears. To feel alone and then to wake and pretend as if your not in the hope that you won't be is so sad. This one really saddens.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you.

[down]

This line: Silence creates a blank page, absent of history,
absent of all things that give birth to being human,
breeding instead emptiness, a void, a mystery,
and a darkness that no one but you could illumine.

This got to me. I can relate to this so much. There are things about my childhood that is so blur and blank.

Sometimes I wonder if what I know, do I actually remember them or was it something someone told me. Love this poem very deep.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you.

[Chris Shaw]

You convey emptiness and pain so well in this beautifully composed poem. I know where I have come from and researched out my roots. I also asked many questions. I can imagine that not having answers when you long for them must leave a person feeling in a state of dismay. Lovely read and so poetic. Stunning artwork. Well done Linda.

Chris

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you.

[John the Baptist]

Some losses never fade completely away, and I think this work is describing such a loss. I sense in this one the death of someone close, possibly a parent who died in the speaker's youth, whose passing left a lot of unanswered questions. It is as though there is a lingering desire to know more about origins and linkages, things the speaker never got to ask about, the mystery of which continues to leave a void. The last verse suggests the gnawing frustration resulting from this gap. Filled with haunting images and elegant rhymes, this poem is a work of somber beauty.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, John.😃

[R.E. Ray]

The clarity of pain can make spectacular art and poetry, as you've presented here. I read a daughter who longed to know her father or mother. She saw traces of history, perhaps tragedy or trauma, but never followed the trail, maybe respecting privacy, maybe fearing the truth... a family history that could stain a mind-painted image, not gray but black.

The beauty of a blank, white page lies not only in the silence but what we choose to write, draw or paint, in whatever style or color we choose. Here, the narrator presents nature in color, and we're drawn to artwork... lower left flower, shaped in still lips, butterfly nose above... and a closed left eye (lower green leaf), perhaps imaging what bloomed before.

Another brilliant work that reveals beauty and pain.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, R. E. 😃. You are always so thoughtful and thorough in your reviews.

[Eilis]

I read this in two ways. First, I felt it as the absent lover. The one that is loved beyond all things but who is missing for whatever reason and has left behind this chair in the heart that can never be occupied by anyone else. The silence that pervades those spaces within us can be a burden that overwhelms when the mind is left to itself.

I also read it as a longing for a connection to the past. Not only to the self and its origins, but to the people who could shed some light on the meaning of being who you are. I understand that aspect. I have gone through my own life wondering where I come from and how the person that I am connects to anything else. I have my parents, but beyond that there is this black hole of no connection. It's a very odd feeling, and having parents that aren't particularly engaged has always meant that this search was a journey all my own.

I got a DNA test last year and through what I did know of my surnames and the connections discovered through DNA, I was able to discover connections going all the way back to the 1500's. The strangest thing for me was opening the book and finding that the two surnames I knew I came from were only a small part of the puzzle and that there are really scores of names and families I am connected to in some way. I discovered that my father's family name was not some carry over from his English heritage, but rather a symbol of the abandoned child. His grandfather was found on the side of the road and adopted. The family who found him gave him the last name Hall because the hauled him home. Or so the story goes.

Anyway, I've said more than I intended. I just wanted to say, I understood this. I think it's a beautiful expression of longing and loneliness and also strength. The strength required to face the impact of feeling and keep moving forward. A stunning work, Linda.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you so much. I am grateful for what you shared. 💕

[Lydia Shutter]

Oh my...Linda, this one really got into my heart. No, as children we do not think to ask about our roots. Unfortunately, as adults it is sometimes too late. The heartache in these lines is stunning. You ARE someone's beloved daughter and you carry on their legacy in your DNA. Beautifully written. Lydi**

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Lydia. 😁

[jacob erin-cilberto]

the broken wing of an orphan bird? one who never knew her parents....or maybe did but never asked questions then, and it's too late now...and she regrets not caring more about finding out exactly who she is...
i found in my parents' last years that i asked more questions than ever...wanting to know everything i could...and i found out some pretty tragic stories...and a lot of hidden angst that rode the long road of family history.
j.

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Thank you, Jacob. After his mother became really ill, Anderson Cooper spent a year corresponding back and forth with his mother asking questions, answering hers, and her revealing things that he otherwise would have never known. From this, he wrote a book; and I think that was the greatest gift they could have given one another. I couldn't even tell you where my parents met or how they got married. I grew up in Lynchburg, Virginia. My father was from Lansing, Michigan; and my mother was from Richmond, Virginia. I have never met anyone on my father's side of the family, and only ever met my grandmother on my mother's side once, when I was about six years old, twice if you count the return visit for her funeral. I have always felt like a piece of driftwood not having any family, and I hate not knowing the history of my lineage. What little I do know, I learned from research going back to the very first Van Tassell (Jan) who married an Indian princess. Since then, over 14,000 have been born with the surname Van Tassell. That's more than I know about my own.