Were you haunted by those ghosts?
Not the ones who died, but the ones that lived
In the minds of those who thought they knew,
They had their fingers on the pulses
Of those who had let the blood run cold.
Was it all too much? To be part of that
Heritage of death and deliberation?
Or was it that the fish were doomed to die?
The futility was just too hard to fight
And you knew it was now or never.
Though you tried to find a place, remote
And reachless on this earth
Those albatrosses carried on
Pulling you under the tides of
Stream and sea.
Are we any different? Is it merely
Circumstance? Or would the twitch
Upon the threads of our existence
Unwind us into a thousand strands
Forcing us to choose the same?
Standing on that stone-cold
Precipice, would we have the strength
To turn and head for home,
Or would we dive headlong into
The depths?
Kathleen Mortensen©2009
3-5-3, 3-7-5 
That's a lovely tribute, Kat– thanks.
LikeLike
Yes, this is a beautiful tribute. It's the only poem I've seen so far on the subject, and you handle it with tenderness and beauty. I especially love the fish, the albatross, and the questions. The questions are ones many of us are wondering. I've lost dear people I love to suicide, and it's a horrible thing. But I can't imagine what it's like to be in the public eye during this awful time. You ask the questions with a true poet's love and concern. That shows a big heart, and I am touched by this poem. Wonderful work, as always.
LikeLike
What a lovely, sad poem, Kat. This is more than a tribute to Nicholas Hughes; it is a deep understanding of human nature, the weight of expectation, and the fragility of our hold on this earth. I keep reading this over and over, amazed at that last stanza and its deep, essential question.
LikeLike
How coincidental, too, that you just wrote about Sylvia.
LikeLike
This is so very sad. Did his iconic mother pass her depression on to her son? Beautiful tribute, Kat.
LikeLike
If no one minds, I choose not to respond to comments on this. Rather, let it stand as a tribute with only gratitude from me for what I feel was a spiritual gift to be able to write it.Kat
LikeLike
Sometimes the pull to go past the edge is magnetic..with ghosts of mothers calling.. Not all can stop legends. How sad this end is. What a beautiful poem.
LikeLike
What a lovely tribute. Sylvia would surely thank you for the humanity in your words.
LikeLike
Beautiful honest poem…but.. Pardon my ignorance but who is Nicholas Hughes?best wishes Ribbon
LikeLike
I was so sad to read of his tragic passing. A sad family legacy. You wrote a beautiful tribute, Kat.
LikeLike
So sad.
LikeLike
A memorable tribute there!!! Keep writing!!!
LikeLike
Thank you for introducing me to Nicholas Hughes. Before your beautiful poem I didn't know who he was. I have since found out.best wishes Ribbon
LikeLike
One of the best contemplative lines I've ever read: “…Or would the twitchUpon the threads of our existenceUnwind us into a thousand strandsForcing us to choose the same?”The timing of your Plath poem and this tragic event shouldn't be lost on anyone. It's almost impossible for poets to write about suicide without people wondering if they're having suicidal ideations. But, you've managed to do it, and as another commenter said – “it is a deep understanding…”
LikeLike
A beautiful tribute, Kat…Thank you.Cyrus
LikeLike
I'm not sure why, but it always strikes me to the core when someone my age dies, regardless of how. How beautifully you handled this, Kat.
LikeLike
A heartfelt lament. I ask you, where do dreams go when they die?
LikeLike
This is a lovely poem, Kat, truly.
LikeLike
Wow – I'm working on a poem about him too – such a sad legacy.
LikeLike
Diane – I look forward to reading your poem.Kat
LikeLike