So I feel like it’s time to talk about what happened last week.
This is a sensitive issue. Please don’t think I’m making light of it at all; I’m still vulnerable and so are a lot of people. But this news was in the news, it is on Facebook, it’s common knowledge, or at least it should be. And it’s all I’ve really been thinking about, because at the moment, everything comes back to this one life-altering event.
On Tuesday 5th April, 2011 at approximately 8am, my housemate, a 25-year-old trainee aircraft engineer was killed in a motorbike accident on his way to college.
He was an amazing guy and we’re still all reeling from the shock. I can’t believe it was more than a week ago, to be honest. Yesterday was the funeral in Sydney; on Wednesday night I spilled my heart on the matter in a public forum via the medium of spoken word poetry.
This is that poem.
suckerpunch
so
here i am
sitting in not enough memories
insomniac thoughts flittering through
thundering clouds whisper rainbows into dreams of sunlight and dancing
on knives
underneath this gathering storm which threatens violence on my somewhat ordered life
darkness is all i can see but
sunlight is all there is here
such a beautiful day
sometimes, life punches you in the guts. SUCKER! it yells and runs off, leaving you gasping and disoriented
wandering around in familiarity but not recognising a single thing
bent double
breathless
and aching
this ache in my heart used to be hope, for hope is what kept it beating
hope keeps us all breathing
shock
stopped
dead
for a while
frozen lungs
unable to picture anything
alone with these thoughts marching in, keeping me wondering
no words
or is it too many?
shaking hands
uncomfortable in my own skin
pounding heart
no rest for the living
anxious and frantic
my soul fraying at the edges with
nowhere to go and
no one to help
my heart so heavy now
filled with rocks called
disbelief
and confusion
for this does not happen to one that we know
one of our own
sadness
frustration and
indignation for
the show got cancelled, with no warning and no reason why
leaving me with a too-small boxed set
wondering what could have been and
unsure of what to feel for
there is no formula for grief
That’s a beautiful poem, Erin. You have an amazing gift with words.