Howard Nemerov

Here you will find the Poem To D, Dead By Her Own Hand of poet Howard Nemerov

To D, Dead By Her Own Hand

My dear, I wonder if before the end 
You ever thought about a children?s game? 
I?m sure you must have played it too?in which 
You ran along a narrow garden wall 
Pretending it to be a mountain ledge 
So steep a snowy darkness fell away 
On either side to deeps invisible; 
And when you felt your balance being lost 
You jumped because you feared to fall, and thought 
For only an instant: That was when I died. 

That was a life ago. And now you?ve gone, 
Who would no longer play the grown-ups? game 
Where, balanced on the ledge above the dark, 
You go on running and you don?t look down, 
Nor ever jump because you fear to fall.