2007
Poem 1
Grief
There’s a
ridge, a series of marks on my wedding finger
My left
hand is marked by ten years of precious metal
I massage
it without thinking, the unfamiliar bareness
The rings
have moved, the message clear to all
She’s no
longer contracted, she’s alone.
My right
hand now glitters, my two trophies shine and sparkle
They know
their time is nearly up
I hope they
find new hope and admiration
For they
are beautiful, and they were given with love
And should
be once more
Antique
engagement ring chosen carefully with a plan
A lifetime
commitment witnessed by all
Now ended
This piece
now brings me grief, for he has chosen another
Marriage
was too hard, and too easily ended, he says
Little does
he know
Eternity
ring – you must go also
For where
there was promise now replaced by rage and distress
Bitter
anger at a wife who could not meet his needs
And has
been discarded
I will
sparkle again, my future is bright
I will
survive this rage, this self indulgent angst of a man who knows nothing of love
My loss
will ultimately transform me, phoenix like I will emerge
Diamond
hard and beautiful.
Sunday night - too much
Sunday night in Hobart, too much really. My sister has just made contact - she has separated from her partner. This is just awful, I have only last week had to deal with almost exactly the same thing - my husband of 10 years announced that he just does not want to live with me any more.
He advised me of this last Sunday, and needless to say the last week has been pretty interesting.
Breast cancer wins the battle.
God she was tricky my sister. She was a dynamo, 5 ft 5, piercing blue eyes, dark blonde hair, persistant freckles - but not on her face! She was a Consultant Paediatric Psychiatrist - who loved to hand out advice. She was pretty hyperactive - loved having things just so, and her home, her garden and her work were run aggressively - wish we could have bottled some of that energy.
I watched her die - I stayed by her side each night from 25 November to 12 December, sleeping in a foldup bed in the hospice by her side - then off I went in the morning, while the rest of the family trundled in and out - she did not want to be alone.
This in itself was pretty stunning - we her siblings and parents had been left severely out of the loop over the previous months. By about August/September she could not speak in sentences, so email was the preferred communication tool. We were each told, firmly and not necessarily kindly, that we were not to come to England until she was ready to go into the hospice. Meanwhile she was working furiously, oxygen tubing stretching for metres, a cylinder placed in every room of the house, sorting things out 'shutting up shop.'
When she ran out of energy and had sorted everything out, including a manual for her hapless husband, she booked herself into the hospice, never to return to her beautiful home. I saw the booking/consent form, stained and crumpled with her tears.
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Poem 1Sunday night - too much
Breast cancer wins the battle.