we couldn’t see inside the box
up on our shoulders
you were getting no older
I wished for a different culture
where our family
was open AND the box too to see you
One. Last. Time.
crushing my eyes closed
harder and harder until
I could feel the pressure on my brain become strong enough
become strong enough to
smother the torture
in my (still beating) heart.
for all but 2 of your 44 years.
My big sister. Pointing. Fighting. Guiding. Defining.
understanding.
I remember how I secretly told you
how you would leave us
as I read to you that last night
“You’ll float. Like a feather on a silent warm breeze.
In all of your favourite colours.
You’ll feel no pain. No pain anymore.
Too young of course. But free.
You’ll wear your Thailand silk.
Softly echoing your movement.
You’ll leave us. You’ll leave me.
And I’ll know. Even if our emotions are closed.
Like that casket in which they’ll hide you.
You’ll have that contented smile again
And you’ll wear flowers in your hair.”
Bio:
Kevin Bonfield is a writer of a disjointed past, a beautiful present and a confident future. As well as poetry and short fiction, he earns a few shillings copywriting. His love of running is oft chronicled at kevinrunsblog.com and his tweets can be found at @bonfield_kevin