There seems to be no ending to consequences of events.
The Last Casualty¹
So Barham sank just like a stone
With eight hundred men and more.
A widow woman wept alone,
Though she’d been here before.
Her husband Harry on the Hood
Now slept beneath the sea.
Her only son’s now gone for good
A Barham lad was he.
A banister was robust where
That rope stopped her dead weight.
She’s left behind all worldly care
Where sorrow was her fate.
In life she’d loved and did what’s right,
She’d helped the poor and weak.
She hanged there in some dappled light:
So lonely, dead and bleak.
So, there behind the opening door
The agent felt cold dread.
A pool of fluid on the floor,
A silhouette of the dead.
It mattered not how good she’d been;
Fate took away her Hope.
Now, there’s this horror too be seen;
It hung there on her rope.
The hallway of the house was bleak
Where she last hugged her son.
And she hung there for near a week
Once her last act was done.
Her end had been so sudden though
When vertebrae were broke.
She had not done a dancing show
That day she did not choke.
She’d choked with tears for several years
All lonely grim and cold.
Through many years she’d shed her tears
But now she’d not grow old.
The state had waged its wars at sea,
But not all deaths were there.
More tragedies are yet to be
When sorrow’s everywhere.
Just one last casualty was she,
For trauma took her down.
She’d hanged, she’d not died out at sea
It’s quicker than to drown.
© Trevor Morgan, 2015
1. “A war widow was found hanged in the hallway of her house. The estate agent handling the sale of her house entered the property to show a potential buyer around. It was then that he found her….” Newspaper report
Verdict… she had taken her own life whilst the state of her mind was disturbed…Coroners report, Portsmouth, June 1955.