For Mary Dabney Baker Finch, January 15, 1952 – October 26, 2018

My sister — the daring, the rider, the dancer —
Whose silence put her in the path of this danger —
Is breaking the heart of my question or answer
Again, as she moves off to death, like a stranger.

She spun herself on.  And the poisons that filled her?
The secret that fed her? Those heart-heavy chances
Her life stole and killed until, finally, they spilled her
Out through the universe? Those were her dances.

No mother has held her — No village will mourn her —
No ritual frames her — Come, help me reclaim her —
Her body won’t bear her again — nor be borne. Her
true name is no secret — and —we will not blame her,

My sister, the daring, the rider, the dancer
Who stepped out, who stepped in the path of the danger.

First published in Tikkun