Separation

Many times I had dreamt that
I held your callous hands
tugged myself under your hem
where you shielded me from the sudden rain

Many times I had convinced myself that
I was strong enough to fend for myself
from all the accusing fingers
which you would had crushed them without hesitation

Many times I had wished you were still here
to share the weather worn swing
sipping lemon tea together while
recounting our childhood mischiefs

I didn’t know that I had lost you
until so many times I had misplaced
my memory of your presence
They snugged up on me
in my most vulnerable state
where I had no tomb to crawl into
no means to make my way to you

 

woman sitting on wooden planks
Photo by Keenan Constance on Pexels.com

Widow

She walks straight into the industrial loft showroom, searching for the rustic vintage teak study desk. The dark shaded timber furniture on display blend in with the red and burgundy floor rugs. They float on the dark metallic painted floor. It makes her feel claustrophobic and reminds her of the wake room at the funeral. Halfway into the showroom, she spots her desk standing next to a red Victorian Tiffany-Style floor lamp.

She races towards it ignoring the other shoppers and the enticing aroma from the coffee cart two metres to her right. The long drape of her moss skirt brushes the heels of her bare feet. She leans on the short edge of the desk, closes her eyes and breathes in slowly, then out. She tries to block the chattering customers, the professional tone of the friendly salespeople and the whining of coffee grinder. She lays her slender tanned hands on the rough surface of the rustic teak. Her half-moon shaped fingers are tracing the grains in delicate circles. She smells the sandalwood incense and hears the trickles of the Feng Shui water fountain. Then the void hits her and brings a lump to her throat.

An Angel

To our Baby Danielle on 6th September 2015

Surprisingly you came and surprisingly you went.
We didn’t get to meet you in the sunlight.

It’s comforting to know
our Heavenly Father keeps you
close to Himself as a gift which
He freely gives and freely takes away.

We love you Baby Danielle!
You are always safe in the palm of His hand.

A tragic mind

she sits on the rope day bed
he weaved for her
cinnamon coffee swirls its way
into her fond memory of him

he used to massage her feet
while she was tapping away
to create sad stories from
her tragic mind

day after day
she could not believe
his unwavering love
he was like the floor lamp
giving out a glow to
clothe her in comfort and love

she always kept that
little distance and space
where he was blinded by confusion
he did feel like he was
just part of the furniture
fit for a purpose but
underserving of her love

now she is sitting alone and
writing a tragic poem on
what it should have been
a happy ever after
reality

Loss

I would never thought to
miss the kookaburra
woke me up at 5am
but I do today
along with other things
like

watching the fish swimming
in the water hyancinth filled
inground pond

reading by the crackling fire
under the shade cloth

the smell of lavender, rosemary,
basil and sage from the garden

Sunday roast
and the laughter
once a family gathering brought

although
they are not the things
made me feel like home
but today
just today
I do miss
them

Rust

the sky is weeping
for the loss of
a loving mother
a supportive daughter
a caring friend
at the blooming age of 33

the wind is raging
against her murderer
a chameleon charmed his way
into her innocent heart
a fungi corrupted her being
eventually caused her to
lose her defence

she is lying in repose
a beauty covered in rust
like a tainted rose

About wars

wars
were decided by people
who were too weak to fight

wars
were fought in God’s name
who commanded ‘Thou shalt not kill’

lives
were sacrificed by youth
who were too naive to realise
the truth of
wars