poetry, word doodles and other writing stuff
Your footfalls echo through the dark.
Somewhere the owl hoots
swift wings gliding.
She lays awake waiting,
night after night, moon after moon.
Lest she misses your ghostly attendance.
Bringing both,
solace and pain
to tortured grief.
The foxes’ sinister bark breaks through the night.
You pause in one another’s presence,
Two restless spirits,
one spectre, one flesh.
I have been thinking about you all day.
The day after.
It began the moment I passed the robin.
An almost spring morning.
Life assuring song on top of his lungs.
Witch hazel blooming.
The first day after death.
When you are faced with the facts that:
And you, you are left behind.
Not quite at the same pace with everyone else.
Not quite in the same space with everyone else.
Still with the one who left.
Yet utterly bereft.
Hot air created foam in rich milk.
You can’t taste the pain au chocolate.
All noise is behind a thick glass wall.
One foot in front of the other going no where.
Ice cold wind slashed your face unbeknownst.
The last roar of winter passes you by.
And you, you are left behind.
It burrows into them
Warps them
Distorts them
It doesn’t heal them
You know what heals wounds?
Trauma therapy
Compassion
Love
Save and brave spaces
Darkness within
Sick mind
Suffering soul
Caring for things that don't matter
While breaking the ones that do
You have been lost for so long
Your self righteousness has become your guiding light
Trapped in delusions and unspoken woes
My grief won't save you
True Colours
@storyfae
Hold your loved ones close. Family doesn’t need to be genetic. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Talk about what matters.
You are in a hole
6 feet under
I image a worm crawling through your eye socket
It’s all a bit Tim Burton in my head right now
Ashes to ashes my arse
Buffet for the creepy crawlies
More like it
Nurture nature
Fair enough
But you weren’t supposed to
43
That’s no age to just drop dead
Not as in drop dead gorgeous
No just dead
Stop
End
Fin
You were supposed to live forever
Because ending isn’t anything
I can grasp yet
It makes a hollow sound
The end
I walk under water
All is muted
I expect you to just come walking out of the barn
Or drive down the dirt path
It’s just stopped
Your life
But you echo everywhere
The space is still holding you
It hasn’t realised you are gone yet either
It’s not just me
Disembodied steps each night
In mum’s bedroom
Always the same time
I feel you sit on my bed
There is movement
Presence
I heard the steps
But you can’t
Can you?
Be there
I cry until there is nothing left
Tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth
Can’t breathe through my nose
I scream into my pillow
I don’t know where to put
All that pain
The confusion
The anger
So I want to stop too
Just stop
How dare world go on without you
Don’t they know
That it can’t
I can’t
Keep going on being
Holding the weight of the black hole
That was ripped onto my chest
That night
That night when I was away
And laid crying awake
Not knowing why
Until early morning
Mum showed up
To take me back home
Numb
I sit in the back of the car
Not even get to shotgun
There’s a dude there
Your colleague
Mum couldn’t drive alone
I was too far away
She in shock
It makes a hollow sound
The end of childhood
Rigmarole
Are you 60 or 16
Starting an argument
Over a ducking piggy-bank
A piggy-bank!
Looks like a cow.
The piggy bank I mean …
Spiteful biatch
You are so rich
And yet so poor
You won’t know anymore
What’s hit you
In a dark room
All on your own
Only ghosts for company
Your bank statement heavy
In your lap
Empty your soul
Loneliness eating you up
It was a trap
Thinking you could make up
For emptyness within
With owning things
Ain’t working like that girl
The wooden chair
Pulls a run
Hard and cold
The darkness holds
Ain’t working like that girl
Empty house
Cold
Nothing vibrates
Life hides from hates
Ain’t working like that girl
What’s worth what?
What has value?
Ain’t working like that girl
Worth is in a life
That touches others
Value is what you create
Not what things hold
Some people are a point of truth in your life
They are there, indisputable fixtures
Reliable in their theirness
You always know what to expect
In his case
Stubborn, hot-tempered, loyal, caring, cheeky
Full of integrity
What was right was right, and wrong was wrong
There was no budging
No grey zones
94 is a good life you say
Doesn’t make it easier
To see him go
Good bye
For now
facsimile of sound
reverberating shadows
of empty days gone by
nights cried through
your smell
your arms
your warmth
your patience with my million questions
when you died
footsteps echoed
during bad nights
in my room
in mum’s room
Where you making the rounds?
Grief in green
Forlorn you stand
Still tall
But only half your beauty
The neighbours thought you messy
Your brother
Mutilated last year
In agony send pilot shoots
Across the garden
10 meters away in hope
Of survival
Or garden is like the opening
Of Asterix and Obelix
One small village of indomitable Gauls still holds out against the invaders.
Asterix and Obelix
A green oasis
Amidst baren order
Tidy boredom without bees
Grashalms stand at attention
as opaque as the obsidian sea
and as deep
sometimes still
sometimes in waves
so massive, so strong they move the land
when grief holds reign
a tiny fishing boat
exposed to the elements
don’t try to steer
or you will capsize
Poetry by Nathalie 