I must admit I sat with trepidation
As he told a tale that had us both awash with nervous perspiration –
For me ‘twas incredulity
That comes from the knowing
At long last…
A truth embedded in our past
And only I to hear it.
For him , ’twas … what?
Beyond relief
For he had told his tale before
It really should have shut the door
Case-closed at long last!
Mystery solved!
But we never got to hear it.
No…
For him who called it in one word
At our recent covert Buckland place
His tale so long deferred
Until this truthing face-to-face
His confession with detected dread,
“I am expunged! I’m now expunged, ” he said!
Now all should get to hear it.
For how much longer does one wait when one has waited long enough?
Why was not the truth revealed to those who do it tough?
Since 1969 and then in 1986
When he confessed the exact same stuff.
The mother and the father then alive
With every moment waking and Recurring, haunted dreams…
Where a darling daughter’s importuning
Rival all collective screams
Of persons missing, lost and calling:
“Find me, find me, find me…!”
Well at last …
I think I have.
I met the man who says he ferried you,
To a secret place and buried you;
Simply had to get it off his chest
Knowing you will never be at rest
Until at length we ferry you
To where your parents wait
Rendered at their graves, effete:
They and living brothers Jim and John;
Importuning on and on
‘Find her, find her, find her’:
Are they and even those in uniform who keep the files alive until complete
Victims of just another State deceit?
Would this man who speaks to me
And moving puzzle’s pieces so convincingly,
Perpetrate some morbid bloody hoax, if so
To what end?
I cannot think of one, except insane But saw it not in his confessional refrain:
“I ferried her and dug a grave and buried her.
She seemed to know the man who murdered her.
Big-noter of his code
Hero even for those who
Pedestal the footballer
‘Was she waiting at the stop for him?”
“It seems she was” for quickly she got in.
Hmmm, it all made sense to me
For a former soldier with a pen
My skin it moved time and time and time again
As he revealed the details of what seemed a thought-out plan
To rid a girl once coveted
Perhaps a footy fan.
I’m sorry Andrew, sorry Will
Why did I bother,
Believing you could relieve me of my load and take my confession to its rightful place, the people… your audience, constituents and others
But more than all … her brothers, Saying loudly, proudly, ringing in the Parliamentary Halls, a truth at last!
And an Aunty blast!
Lead news!
‘We have found her, found her, found her’…yet wait I still
For the day that those that earn their wages and their trust in fervoured searching for all truths,
Say ‘We’ve found Lucille.”
I’ll find someone who wants to know
About a girl so long ago
Who met for secret love and
Ne’er came home.
A tryst, a whispering, a back-seat Rendezvous in winter’s darkening, Sombre afternoon;
The end and a beginning;
A life;
A myth;
For it cannot be a mystery
If the braided searchers knew
And kept it to themselves
As just another secret
The road to Truth is more than steep
But worth the twists and turns to let you sleep
“Find me, find me,” have you cried,
You’ve been calling since you died:
I’ll take it on as Hallowed Quest
To put you finally
To your rest.
Lucille…
I will.
http://www.myspace.com/video/vid/108759998
Paul Tapp
