I am gathering back the pieces of me
swooping the net, catching butterflies
of fragments that I left behind
The lovelorn ice I sent to Siberia
I am taking it back to my tropics
The sadness slipped next to the chair
on your veranda the day you left
your back stooped and your gait slow
The smile I left in a parking lot
that I forgot to pack in my luggage
the one that has been glittering like a penny
on the tarmac, I have found it and put it in my pocket
The poem I wrote and crumpled and left under
the tree of my childhood, the crayoned words
in green and blue – it’s under my pillow now
The fabric of memory, the threads that held
the time we laughed until we cried
I have that patch on my quilt now, stained but loved
The dreams I sent up in air, I found them on a cloudy hill,
on a misty morning, when they were just close enough to
pull back into my garden where the shade of the trees
will keep the sun from burning them
I am gathering the bits of myself that I discarded across
the planet and throwing them up silently to the stars
the darkness and the light in perfect balance.
We did not want to meet
Fierce migrants, wanting to fit in
and hang out with the locals
A year of mutual stubbornness –
until a friend wore us down
We both had intended to only meet once
to silence the nagging.
I loved you from the moment
I saw the light steaming out of your face
You laughed with a joy
I had rarely seen before
We spoke about deep oceans of life
You showed me how colour came in different shades
And got me thinking of things
way before the rest of the world caught up
You had an immovable belief in me
telling me about things I would do that I had
not even thought of myself
And you made music come alive
We would dance in my lounge in the afternoon
like crazy fools, just taken by the rhythm
I remember going to a Pink Martini concert
I did not know you would be there
When a conga line came through the audience
of course, you were leading it
You face just burning joy
Your brain was built for designing
We’d go on walks and suddenly
you would be distracted by a leaf
Not any leaf but one
that had a structure you thought was amazing
You took my Catholic soul
and invited it to your Jewish Shabbat
We put our hands on our children’s heads
And prayed for the light of Ruth to enter their lives
Your reverence as great as your joy
Then we broke challah and shared wine
I have watched the maggot
of disease eat your brain but
it hasn’t taken your spirit
Recently I said, “I am so sad this is
happening to you, Di”
And you laughed your big laugh and said
“Tunz, we are all going to die”
And you made it sound like we
were all getting a pony for Christmas,
the wonder of it all,
this crazy thing we call existence.
Slowly you will forget who you are
when that happens
and your canvas is blank
I will remember and dance for you.
I was too busy
to realise that your graduation
would be mine
That the cap and the gown
the shoes, the dress, the
carefully managed hair and
eyebrows would signal
my own right of passage
I threw my own clothes on
and rushed to your ceremony
I was unaware that the mantle
of my motherhood
was transforming
into a new shape
That as you took those steps
up onto the stage
with the sage of professors
standing in the pomp of their gowns
You were walking out of your childhood
and into the world
You doffed your cap at the Chancellor
a sign of respect
He doffed his back at you
a signal between adults
who have been through a
similar rite of passage
My job is done
The lunches, the toys,
the books, the uniforms,
the grazed knees and the
daily rituals that passed as
slowly as the sun does across
the sky – are gone – funny how we don’t
notice the shifts in the light
until the sun actually goes down.
I will never be a mother again
in the same way that I was before
As I let you become who you need
to be, I have to find my own courage
to be – me – without the definition
of mother of a small child.
To take the risks that I urge you
to take – to live a life –
that is not too small.
I have been lucky, up until recently,
I have managed to navigate the rips
and miss the tides,that others have felt
far earlier.
No one close to me, had died
No one had been, terribly ill
But soon enough this cycle of life
will catch all of us.
Even the blessed, the charmed,
the brilliant or the silent who
have managed to take cover
in the shadows.
The cathedral to the cycle of life
can never sit empty for too long.
We will all rotate on its benches
infused with years of incense.
Incensed we may be,
the wrath of unfairness,
as we shuffle up a pew
closer to our fate.
The stained glass reflections may
save us from the wind, for a time
but the procession forward will not be
diverted.
We will bow our heads at the
appropriate stations
and bear what has been delivered.
Deliver us from ourselves
Deliver us from evil.
The bells may haunt the spaciousness of silence
the music may slow down the movement
We may in the mass of life, not notice
the raw implications of our own mortality
but no one will leave this planet
untouched by its beauty, its rawness
or its need to totally consume you
until it starts all over again.
There is something
about airplanes –
Travelling alone
in the dark night sky
when anything
seems possible
And all your journeys
Seem to be taking you
to that one point you
have been waiting for
Cocooned in metal
wrapped in your seat
your senses able
to only focus
in the space in front
of you and inside of you
And you realise
that inside of you is
a vastness, bigger
than the place you are
going to
I remember one trip
Flying in the inky black
night – it was winter
and I am sure Mozart was
streaming through my headphones
We circled over Singapore
the ocean beneath us
was filled with boats
In the darkness
it was hard to make out
their shapes
but their lights
looked like stars
and as we came in to land
it was like landing on the sky.
I have been with you
since I was an idea
in your girlhood
when movies were black
and white and you wore
bobby socks with
flared rock and roll
skirts and you dreamt
of motherhood.
You whispered me
into reality.
I have no concept
of your mortality
Not until recently
when you lay
slack-jawed
with machines
breathing for you
You looked
bird-like
vulnerable
It made me blink
with lack of comprehension
I wanted to shake
I wanted to shake you
Have a two year old tantrum
Tell you
to stop acting
It’s not funny
I wanted to
simultaneously
laugh and sob
at the sight of you
Laugh because it seemed
you were pretending
to be sick and you were
doing it so well
Sob because you looked
So weak
You are my mother
You were here before me
It makes no sense
that my beginning
can have an ending.
I understand you want me
to stand in reverence
at dawn
when the bugle breaks
the clouds
and mournfully rouses
the birds who have
not yet stirred
in their nests
I understand you want me
to stand in the cold
with millions of others
in the silence of candles
while the gun salutes
blast through the memories
inherited in my cells
I understand you would like me
to revere the soldiers who fought
for peace, I rationally know it was
necessary but
I struggle with the juxtaposition
of those words “fought for peace”
Ironic
I need you to understand
my great-grandparents’
hands being found
in the rubble of their
bombed Rotterdam home
Their wedding rings
identifying them –
Which strangers held
their hands?
Hands that had held
so many children.
Hands that had loved
and worked
Hands that had rubbed
rosary beads
and prayed for peace
Strangers picking up their hands
from the rubble
Did they examine their life lines?
Was their fate noticeable
in those empty palms?
Strangers’ hands typing the
telegram
from the Red Cross
Short sentences
Stop
They are dead
Stop
Tell Alice gently
Stop
Stop
I do not mean
to offend you
but
I would struggle to stand
with millions at dawn
I prefer to light my own candles,
Invoke a light on the world
and stare at my
hands and wonder if
in any way they
resemble theirs.
Beware of what you say ‘yes’ to
It is such a small word
Yes
But it may steal your soul
It may take your light
That rises each morning
On your mountain range
And decimate you
With your amazing uniqueness
Do not cry for something that
Everyone else aspires to
For it may not suit your soul
It may dull your senses
And steal your magic
And turn you into one of them
Instead take your courage
And say ‘no’ to the things
That have the veneer of brilliance
That you know do not fit you
These may seem like windows
But are frosted and will steal
Your clarity
Say ‘no’ to the wide doors
That appear to be entrances
Wide red carpets
Chandeliers, grand pianos
Playing someone else’s music
Dig your tunnel in the dirt
Scrape the earth that you know
Will lead you to something far more
Breathtaking
Get the dirt of you under your nails
As you create the thing
That all of us will stand and admire
And say yes to.
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