October 21st 1966
We learned about the 5ws in primary
When we laughed
As we should
And we held hands and skipped
And kicked a ball in the alley
Tween your house and mine.
Have slowly been hauled about.
Becoming a frozen child at my hip
A demanding grizzly burden
Of your restless Unfulfilleds
The hours lost to the pondering
Of how me?
That particulat w I always questioned
The abstract idea of teaching a child
That a "w" is in fact an "h"
Just doesnt make sense
Almost as surreal as thinking that children
Dont feel grief
Or have burning questions
That eat them
Like a mountain can swallow schools
And leave a scar on a community
Or a hip
So, Ever Since
I look on my aging skin
Above that hip
Your names are tattoed in guilt
In ink the colour of open wounds
Underlined in those Unfulfilleds
Those turgid mind games pestering us survivors
At every birthday or,
celebration when your abscence fills the room
Who - would you have grown to be?
What - would I say if I had the chance?
When - will it be over?
How - did this happen?
Why - consistent. Why was I allowed to live?
Where- this one is played in minor chords
Of children stuck indoors
This name knocks on my door
It is there in the morning sky
And in the music of the river
It is staring at me from my cereal bowl
And loitering in the coffee shop
It hangs on my Sunday suit
And stretches along the sun's fingers
As they reach over the mountain top
And the birds know the name
As they call dawn and dusk
Poetry by LFD3
Read 117 times
Written on 2016-10-11 at 23:03
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