Bedlam – A Dash of Sunny

img_0602

I imagined you, standing over me,

breathing your death-breath into my soul.

I imagined my lungs inflating with the ashes of you

and I pressed against my chest to stop inhaling you –

but you were too strong.

You held my gaze,

your hazel eyes piercing mine

and I could see the thoughts in your head –

the roiling, churning black and vomit yellow

and I could not stop them infecting my

azure blue and foxglove purple.

You stole my days

You infused my nights

You were relentless.

I imagined you standing over me

and yet when I reached out for you,

you were not there.


 

It’s time for the latest prompt from A Dash of Sunny, where this week we are invited to write on loss and madness.

It’s no secret here to those who know me, that my dad died suddenly in 2013. I truly thought, during the time of sitting for 12 days, watching him slowly fade from coma to death, that I was going mad. I’m sure I wasn’t alone. It felt so unreal and surreal, and yet everyone at some point loses someone they love. How are we so unable to explain and prepare for this?

Anyway, during that time, and for a period after his death, my dreams were, unsurprisingly, very disturbed. it’s how we process and attempt to make sense of it all.

I hope this isn’t too depressing. Also – I am fine now! It’s just part of life’s rich tapestry, isn’t it?

Please do head on over to A Dash of Sunny and brace yourselves for strong, honest writing!

Advertisements

The times they are a-changin’ – dVerse Haibun Monday

dsc_0121

Stupid as it sounds, I never imagined my life without Dad. He and I didn’t have the easiest of relationships. As a little girl, I desperately wanted his presence, wanted him to notice me, wanted him there, with me. So, stupid as it sounds, his absence then felt like a presence, even though his actual presence was erratic and intermittent. We didn’t see each other, didn’t contact each other for many years. Oh, I kept track of him for most of that time, via the wonders of the internet. And then, the London bombings happened near to where he worked, and that was my wake-up call. Life is too short. Oh, how prescient was that thought, for what was too short a time after that, he died. I never imagined what that would feel like, how angry, desolate, lost, hurt, devastated I would feel. I have healed, as we all do, but he is there, in my mind, every day. He is once again absent, this time permanently gone, but always with me.

Leaves turn, green to gold

seasons change, nature gives birth –

death to life once more.


 

It’s Haibun Monday over on dVerse and we are asked to write our haibun on the subject of change, including a nature-based haiku to wrap up our piece.

I write not infrequently about my dad – he’s in my thoughts every day. It’s a strange thing, I never imagining him being gone, given that he was absent for so much of my life. Oddly, my mum and step-dad, my supporters, my cheerleaders, my safe harbours who have seen me through good times and bad – well, I do think of what it will be like when they are no longer here (gosh, that sounds morbid, it’s not meant to!). My mum did say to me, not long after my dad died, that her own mum was in her thoughts every day, even though she died when my mum was a little girl. I truly understand that. It’s not a conscious thought, it just is.

Anyway, I’m sure that everyone else who takes part tonight will approach this theme in their own unique way. Please do head on over to dVerse to enjoy the creativity!

Foundered – dVerse Poetics

IMG_0032

My encasement has shattered.

The ice shower sprinkle

doesn’t register at first,

merely tickling my eardrums with fairy sparkle.

But then millions of shards dagger the ground

exploding, pounding the back of my eyeballs

as the pressure wave roils and rolls towards me –

a tsunami.

My protective, self-mandated tomb is shattered

and my soul bleeds, splattering the earth

as fat raindrops in the tail-end of a summer storm.

I have been breached.


 

A deceptively tough write this week on dVerse Poetics, hosted by Walt… what does love sound like? It can be any kind of love, but the sound? Wow! I’m in reflective mood (so often the case!), and am thinking about my dad, as time continues to pass and I see him in a different light.

This is a little informed by the tidal wave of feelings that washed over me during his short illness and funeral, and the immediate aftermath. I can write differently now. I can confess to the depths of my feelings, without bitterness. It’s a release.

Please do head on over to dVerse to read other entries – there is bound to be a cacophony!