end of the line

submission for the prompt "place"

I mark the close of a chapter
last to bear my family name
so I resolve to brandish it
like a crest

my coat of arms
the arms my father embraces me with
his arms once grasped by arms that shaped wood
that shaped a family
that’d one day have a father-shaped hole.

I know the shape of my father’s father
through sepia photographs
his silhouette embedded
in the hills and valleys of my penstrokes
as I shape his name
my name
our name
the name that will die with me

I mark this name with certainty
driving pen to paper like a stake
hoping it’ll stave off my guilt for not passing it along
but then again
I couldn’t anyway

no wonder a surname is
a sir’s name
meant to conquer
dominate

concession is a woman’s place
despite all the space she commands in life
the name she bears
gifted by her father
from his father
and his father’s father
was only on loan
never hers to give.

“Ma’am - last stop on this train
End of the line.”

I oblige and quietly exit
reminded of my place.

Photo by Filippo Ascione on Unsplash

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Originally this poem was written as a submission for The Faoileánach Journal ‘s prompt “Place”. Though it did not get chosen, I had a great time writing it and still wanted to share! I also wanted to extend a huge thank you to

Melanie Cole

for taking the time to read my work and for writing a thoughtful, personalized email in response to my submission. I’m excited to read the upcoming issue and look out for future prompts (and I recommend any readers here do the same!)

I had not written poetry for years, but once I considered this prompt the first stanza poured out and I decided to roll with it.

In my current travels, my home is at the end of a train line - which brought back memories of living near the last stop of a train line during part of my childhood. Hearing “This is the last stop” again on a daily basis made me reconsider my place at the “end of the line”.

The realization that my sister and I will technically be the last ones with our dad’s family name occurred to me many years ago and I never stopped thinking about it. As a teen I resolved that I’d never change my last name.

Considering my place at the end of the line allowed me to combine these sentiments, so writing this piece felt very cathartic.

Let me know if any part of it resonated with you!