The
Betrayal
Joyce
Billingsby
I'll
not forget the night she died—
We kids all gathered around;
The ticking of the mantle clock
Was the only dreadful sound.
We stood in icy terror,
Each lost in our own gloom,
Waiting for that Bandit Death
To steal into the room.
She began to call our names—
Her voice was soft and low;
And then she called a stranger's name—
A name we did not know.
The thundering of our hearts leapt out
Into that awesome quiet;
It seemed that scarce we dared to breathe—
And Papa's face was white!
I saw the pain sweep through his eyes
Before he turned away,
And knew too well he understood
The secret she betrayed.
I wondered what he may have guessed,
But knew his lips were sealed;
Whatever happened in the past
Would never be revealed.
My mind went racing back through time
When she was young and gay,
Remembering how she'd stop her work
To come with us and play.
I could see her skipping through the fields
To bring our lunch at noon;
And Papa's face would always smile
When she walked in the room.
They had shared a secret life
We kids could never know;
Behind those sacred bedroom doors
We weren't allowed to go.
The look I saw on Papa's face
Still haunts me till this time and place;
And though it hurt to see her go—
It hurt me more—for him to Know.
***
Joyce
Billingsby is a Weakley County, Tennessee, farmwife and poet.
Her novel Wildwood: Confessions of a Moon Wife has recently
been released and is available online through Amazon, Barnes and
Noble, and Books-A-Million. Her poetry has been published in perodicals
including Windmills (UTM), The Jackson Purchase Historical
Society, Lyrical Fiesta, The Family Farm, and
Down Home.
©
Joyce Billingsby