To say goodbye

(Published @ www.write-away.poetry.org 27th July - 28th September. Dedicated to my father who died from Leukaemia, aged 47 in 1970)

Not accustomed to death's dance

storms lash my shore.

Food has lost its flavour,

colours their brightness,

scents their smell.

Body won't work -

arms and legs jangle

like tangled marionette.

Eyes stream constant tears

as if cheeks are flowers to be watered.

Wet tissues encircle me

for overcoat of grief (that vast ocean)

weighs down blocking spontaneity,

freezing me in perma-frost,

where shock and denial

have refrigerated any feelings.

Oh, yes, now I'm angry.

A wasting body where once

laughed my father, funny and warm,

teasing my seriousness away,

driving me to 'the pictures',

playing French Cricket on the back lawn,

buying my first rabbit.

Angry that a life cut off halfway

can shut down like an epilogue.

How dare he leave me!

Hairbrush smacks mirror

Shattering image of self.

What if someone else could have died?

Who would I have chosen?

Why can't he come back?

Not sure he's really gone-

keep glimpsing his face,

dark hair, blue eyes,

in crowds, on television,

smell his smell,

dream he's returned from distant lands.

Why didn't I…?

What if…?

Emotions translate into pain.

I sweat, I hurt,

skin blotches like purple patchwork,

stomach churns like cement mixer,

head throbs like drumbeat,

heart skips to a tune I don't recognise,

palpitations announce next attack.

Depression has hit rock bottom

whirl-pooling its loop

(no remission for good behaviour).

Getting through, icy lesson learnt

for the future.

He is free from pains grasp,

free, drifting from me

while trapped, vulnerable,

moods riding a rollercoaster,

life suspended,

I'm caught between pain and healing,

cutting myself up

because

I never got to say

"goodbye".