Dying in Rathgar.
There are large houses on the Zion Road
One house ... home to a girl from school,
...had sloping steps of stone
An old hand rail ..rust and worn
Black door, Victoriana .. peeling
Tree Shadows dancing up and down upon the window glass ..
A shady basement on a level with the eye
They lived there then...
Mr and Mrs and the girl from school... Adele
She’d carrot hair....pale skin white porcelain
Sometimes she laughed so much she could not stop
Her eyes were full of tears
My mother said she was a nervous child.
It was a quiet house. We did not know it well.
Some houses , people are not welcome in ...
Adele’s was one of them.
It had an air about it..an only child at home alone
... father sitting in his chair..mother doing here and there
No cat or dog just pebbles on the drive..no knocker and
No bell.
Inside Adele ...
With her music box..a tinkling sound
A Spanish dancer twirling round around..she watched
Deep in the faraway.
Her lucky charm , a silver cat.. .hung on a chain around her neck
The cat will bring me luck one day she thought
She sat with heavy curtains in her friendless room
The roses fading where the sun came in.
And then... the word got out...
Hushed tones were whispering
Around the Rathgar shops...
..via the butcher and the baker boy, the woman selling caramels
It spread like some great plague from each to each
With Neighbours wringing hands in shock and disbelief
Glazed faces staring at each other stunned
And tutting ...On pious lips ,...but for the grace of God go I.
They had all heard ...
But nobody was keen to speak the words
He’d hung himself...the father of Adele is dead !
He did it in the attic .. from the beams
We heard the news in school
And after that we could not sleep
It left us haunted scared and
Frightened of the night
That house became a spooked out place
....we rushed on by
It’s darkened silent windows ...spoke of shame and grief...
A sin that had been committed
The house now bore a curse
Rathgar ..the baker said...
Will never be the same
Adele did not return to school
I felt she might be sitting in that room alone
Fingering her little silver cat
Praying that her bedeviled luck might change...
And the gossip stop.
Kristine Byrne 16th Oct 2012