Forget Me Not.

He should be eighteen
But will remain forever nine
The little boy with the laughing eyes
And the mop of curly untameable hair
Caught forever in endless days of childhood

A chance word
A song on the radio
It catches me unaware
Reopening a wound that has never fully healed
My heart screams in pain
And I am hurled once more upon the jagged rocks of memory.

A phonecall in the night
My sister's tears
Her mumbled words
Her grief rends the world
I hold her tight
Yet cannot touch her
Tethered together in a feeble attempt to save her
To save myself
Relentless storm clouds beat down
We are all swallowed whole

Casseroles, bread, an ocean of milk
Why do they think food will salve us?
But they must do something to save themselves
Empty thanks yous
Awkward words
Awkward silence
Faces come and go
They are all strangers
In a strange land
The world is lost
There is nolonger meaning

His tiny body laid out before us
Witness to that which should never be
I should never have looked
That should not be my last memory
I tear at the visions in my mind
Trying to erase the moment
It cannot be undone

Emotions burning me to the core
A thousands suns to sear me soul
I can stand no more
My mind rebels
And I am numb


I am no longer really here
Faceless mannequins sit before me
They fill every corner of the church
And spill out onto the road way
Silent sentinels to my grief
The world is muffled and grey

I can barely feel the wood of the pulpit beneath my hands
Witness to a million words of love and grief
Aged flaking lacquer slices my fingertips
And I feel nothing
I am a voyer
Disembodied and disconnected
The woman standing before me is a stranger
Her ashen and tear stained face belong to another.

Words on paper in my own handwriting
Seem the work of a stranger.
Images flicker in my mind
My sister and I sitting alone
In the lounge room
The door barred to keep the world outside.
Paper and pen cannot hope to capture
What is lost.

Do the words matter?
Or is it the act of writing?
The memories
Laughing, crying, screaming
We hold each other without touching
Each knowing that a single touch to comfort will break the spell.
And we will drown once more
We must hold this moment of sanctuary
Or we will never survive the reality
Beyond the door

My mouth moves
I speak the words
But they have no meaning.
Remember the joy
Remember the love
Hollow, meaningless, lies
I lie to myself, I lie to everyone
Who am I trying to convince?
A piece of me is missing
I fear I will never find it

I swallow my grief
I cannot show it
False strength
A thin veneer to cover the maelstrom that consumes my soul
My skin is sensitised
Each touch meant to comfort
Becomes a thousand razor blades
Slicing my flesh to shreds

Time heals all wounds
Except this one
The fragile scar continually breaks down
A chance word
A song on the radio
And I am transported to that day once more

I cannot breathe
Tears run unchecked
A tide to swallow the world
The waves close over my head
The darkness blankets me
Peace is forever denied

I must swallow myself
Or be lost forever
I take the pain and put it in a box
It struggles to escape
And I tie it tight
Life goes on because it must
But the light of day is forever dulled


If the only way to be rid of the pain is to forget
I choose always to remember 
If you cannot feel love without pain
Then the pain will be borne
And he will be forever loved

Michelle

(This is in memory of my beautiful nephew Jack who was taken to soon.  Nine years is as yesterday)

Dust

The girl stands silently in front of the door. She shifts her feet, clenching and unclenching the pale hands by her sides. The sun shines through the window too her right. The colour is drained from all it touches. The girl moves in a world grey and colourless. She raises her hand and reaches slowly for the doorknob. She pauses. Her hand hovers over the battered brass globe. It teeters, suspended by an invisible string of fear. She is overcome by weakness and her hand drops back to her side. She knows what lies behind the dark wooden door before her. Another life. Another time. Another girl. Dust.

The door before her hides its secrets well. Bland, brown, unpainted laminate of a time long past. Immovable, impenetrable, silent. It stands as sentinel to a treasure long lost to the world of men. Yet its tongue longs to loosen under it's burden. Clues to its guardianship strive to seep through tiny cracks and flaking board. Only the girl knows the truth of what lies within. Potential. Hope. Dreams. Dust.

She closes her eyes. The handle before her sings. Its siren song calls her and she places her trembling hand upon its icy surface. She shudders. Echoes of another time race up her slender arm, chilling her. It stops her breath. She struggles to recover her equilibrium whilst the world around her spins and heaves. The violence of the storm threatens to overwhelm her. Then. Silence. Short ragged breathes break from her throat. Her heart beats raggedly, then slows to a semblance of normalcy. The world behind the door pulses. Pride. Effort. Excellence. Dust.

She is in union with the world behind the door. All is revealed to her minds eye. She sees into a world occupied by another. Dust motes float listlessly through the small shaft of sunlight, broken through a fallen corner of curtain. A world suspended in an impenetrable drop of golden amber. Preserved for all eternity. A museum piece behind a red rope. Untouchable. To be viewed and loved and mourned. Joy. Peace. Love. Dust.

She runs her eyes over the contents of the room. Each piece preserved in a vacuumed second of time when the world ceased to be. Each piece reveals something of the nature of the girl who once lived there. The long desk near the wall holds the cipher to the life of the girl now lost. The textbooks placed in perilous piles on the edge of the desk. A jar of broken pencils and empty pens. Papers in haphazard piles that only the creator can understand. A tattered copy of Anna Karenina peeks out from between the reams. A green chipped incense holder. A pile of magnetic marbles. A paper bag from Raffles. An old tobacco tin of paper clips. Each a representation of the one long gone. Life. Work. Passion. Dust.

The girl at the door awakens from the dream. She senses the wisps of caramel, gold and sepia that strive to reach her. She is too far away. They fall back defeated, to wait for she who will never come. A tear rolls down her cheek. She knows she will never open the door. She knows she will never reach the world on the other side. It is forever denied her. The girl who lived in the world behind the door no longer exists. Only the girl in the world without colour breathes now. Sadness, Longing. Emptiness. Dust.

The girl takes her hand from the door and feels the wrench within her soul. She can bear no more. Something is broken. Her shoulders slump. She turns from the door. She lives within the pale, bleached world of grey. Memories of the golden world and the girl who lived there, begin to fade once more. The girl by the door is covered in ash and dust.

Ash and Dust.
Sadness. Longing. Emptiness. Dust.
Life. Work. Passion. Dust.
Joy. Peace. Love. Dust.
Pride. Effort. Excellence. Dust.
Potential. Hope. Dreams. Dust.
Another life. Another time. Another girl. Dust.

Michelle