dear Jean

the angel of Swan Point

I wrote this piece several months ago after a visit to a local cemetery that interns several prominent Rhode Islanders of the past. In one area near a gazebo there was a small headstone that simply read: “Jean 1928-1934.” She was six years old. No last name, no ornate family plot nearby, just a praying angel statue beside the marker and a view of a garden and river beyond it. I imagined the angel was placed beside her grave purposefully and what her parents may have told her about it.

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My dear Jean,
I think you’d like it here – 
I see purple flowers blossoming on the hill,
and sparrows flit about, singing merrily.
the sun rises over the river and 
there is a break in the trees,
so you’ll never miss it. 
I see swans here in the spring, 
there is a nest somewhere near – 
I know they were always your favorite.
when the sun is high, and 
the breeze is lively, everything sparkles
just like a magic trick – oh you’d be so pleased. and
for night, my dear Jean, when I cannot be here, 
I leave this angel to watch over you – 
she is in your likeness, 
I made quite sure.
when others walk by they too may be comforted in knowing
a sweet angel watches over their children too. 
I know you are not alone but,
be brave, my dear Jean. 
my heart longs to hold you close in my arms,
your shining eyes before me, 
I pray it is never too long before I see you again.

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