They were standing on a hill, waiting to meet their fate.
One was sorry for what she’d done, but her sorry came too late.
One said to the other… “There is so much hate in you.”
The other said, “I know, but ain’t this a pretty view?”
“I gotta speak my piece,” said one, “I won’t have the chance again.”
“I never did know why we killed that woman and those two men.”
The other thought for a moment, then she sighed and shook her head.
“How many times do I have to tell you? They ain’t really dead.”
The first one said, “I can’t believe you said what I just heard.
I know your memory of that day couldn’t be that blurred.”
“I killed one of ’em myself. All together we shot three.
Soon we’ll be dangling from a rope. Hanging in that big ole tree.
I think I deserve to know how they done you wrong.
And why in bloody blazes did you take me along?”
One looked at the other… and said, “You had to come.”
“I’ll try one more time to make you understand it some.
It’s not what they done to me. It’s what they took from us.
You accepted things with grace. I always made a fuss.
You were the sweet one. I was loud and some said mean.
I was hard to look at. You were pretty and serene.
They left when we were little. The worst kind of betrayal.
I tried to keep you with me, but deep down I knew I’d fail.
How could a Ma and Pa run off and only take their son?
All those years of waiting caused much damage to be done.
I had to come and find you so we could make them pay.
We gave them what they deserved for leaving us that day.”
I was there the day of the hanging. I looked high up in that tree
There was only a single rope, and just one woman, that I could see.
I began to realize why both of them had to come.
The two very different women, were really parts of one.
She had lost her beauty. Her kind heart could not hold on.
They left her with the anger. All the good in her was gone.
Those three weren’t really dead, because her memory escaped their death.
She knew they would never die, until she’d taken her last breath.
She smiled as she stood there waiting. She would get what she was due.
She would be joined with all she’d lost. Until then…she’d enjoy the view.
The “Gone” plaque was created by Amber Diehm. When a saw the photograph taken by her mother, Dianna Diehm, two possible stories came to mind. I want to post the other, very different, story in a later blog.