The February 1940 poems are very telling.

Or are they? Is it possible to tell from someone's poems what was really going on?

QUENCHED FIRE

If on this earth I cannot have

my soul's desire--

If God thinks best to quench

this blazing fire

That is within my heart

I shall, with tears as salt

as ocean spray

Begin to drown the flame

to ash. Someday

When tears have ceased to

flow so free

Then shall that flame have ceased

to burn in me

And lie forgotten as some

childhood dream

That once gave life a singing

golden theme.

But, oh, may not a single

ember glow!

I could not bear the thought

that it might grow

And, unexpected, burst one day

in flame--

Burning too hot to bear!

A grief too great to name!

February 6, 1940

"BECAUSE I AM AFRAID--"

Because I am afraid

that loving you will be

too hard a thing for me to do--

Because I am afraid

that in return your love for me

will bring us both to woe--

Because I am afraid, --

Because I love you so, --

Because you love me, too,

I let you go.

So go away some place I

cannot be.

Find love with one whose

love for you is free

And brave.

One who will love you,

Not so much as I,

One who will never feel the

pain that I shall feel

Becaue I let love die.

February 6, 1940

"BECAUSE YOU SAY THAT THERE IS HOPE--"

Because you say that there is hope

For happiness ahead that I can't see,

Because you love me, --want me, too,

I give myself to thee.

Because you have the faith that you can win

Despite the opposition of the gods

I offer you my all and pray

That you may overcome the

greatest odds.

Because you trust yourself

to win in life

E'en though you know not

what's designed Above,

I place my present-Future in your hands

Because you say your faith

comes from my love.

February 6, 1940

(Talk about "It's complicated.")

STRUGGLE

Unknown to you there is a struggle

in my heart

Which, though I try to keep the secret hidden

Rises to my thoughts and makes

an ache inside.

It rises to my thoughts always

unbidden.

And I am torn between two ways to go--

The high, fre way of Love, close

by your side.

The life that, careless of tomorrow's

joy or pain

I'd share with you in happiness

and pride.

With you, my love, the days would

swiftly pass--

Time flies when hearts together

beat as one--

And even though each joy brought

double heartache

I know I'd happy be 'til life

was done.

The other way, that tugs at my life's

feet

Is narrow in its scope, and dull,

but true.

It leads to that warm place

Security, --

E'en to Success--but what's Success

to me unless 'tis you

Who gains that mountain's height, me

at your side.

We two together, 'seems, the world

could ain.

Could ever live in happiness and joy.

But, oh, without you, living seems in vain.

February 26, 1940

"EVEN THE LEAST OF THESE"

Sing ever,

Sweet thrush!

Sing always,

Forever!

Banish care and

end sorrow--

But hirp on,

Little Sparrow.

February 9, 1940

PREFERENCE

Oh, not to live--

It is to die

and never know

the feel of arms'

possessing power;

To miss the kiss

from Love's own lips

that blots the mind

from world and hour;

To never to belong to one

who loves my body

as my soul--

'Tis this I fear.

Existence missing

all of these is worse

than death.

In fact, I'd rather die, my dear.

February 27, 1940

(So she wrote these to my grandfather, who by all accounts was a handsome man...I even have pictures...but he wasn't that great of a guy, in my estimation...I mean there were probably some good things about him, he was an airplane mechanic, he served in the war...World War II it would have been...but when my mama was born, and after Madge died a year and a half later, he just left my mama with the grandparents and went on off somewhere, took up with some Cuban woman who eventually left him, and then married someone else and had a couple more kids...never bothered to get back in touch with my mom, which he could have done...but maybe it was for the best, for if he was indeed some kind of child abuser, then I am glad I did not know him. How sad. Love is so blind and lust is even blinder.)

(But you know, if I get human-cockroach survival genes from him, or something like that, then I guess I could get past this pandemic, or something. Who knows. Gotta get somethin' out of it, didn't get any money nor any ancestral home nor land nor nothin'. Just nothin' but a bunch of poems to put on a blog and figure out a story with. Which I suppose helps to pass the time.)

(Here might be another clue in this last poem in this set. I wonder if she saw him or went after him or something. I mean Calera is a pretty small town.)

THE FIRST WARM DAY OF THE YEAR

The cold spell

is just over

and this

is the first

warm day of the year.

It will be remembered--

this day--

in the cold to follow it

before the real spring comes

as hope

and

a promise.

Madge Hall

February 29, 1940

(Or was she just trying to find some way to hope for something? It was a Leap Year, apparently.)