Making sense of the world with words
My first prose poem. That’s all.
“Sasha, from Maidstone, Kent, was last seen on Saturday…” That’s how it went, “last seen on Saturday, September 8, after leaving a friend’s house at around 11. The 17-year-old brunette was caught on CCTV walking towards home, down Union Street.” On Saturday, September 8.
This poem needs little explanation. I’m sure many people can identify with this feeling – the slow, cold realisation that you are losing someone you love:
Would you care if I left,
Would you be bereft? Would you cry?
Or would you sit dry eyed in despair?
Would you? Would you care?
Would you flood the lands with your tears
…
We mourn those who die but, really, who and what are we mourning for?
If I should die,
don’t cry for me.
I’ll be dead you see.
I’ll have gone,
escaped life’s throng
…
Heartbreak, well, where to begin… It is something most of us will experience at some point in our lives and indeed, unwittingly inflict upon others. But until you do experience it in its fullness, it is impossible to imagine how excruciatingly painful it can be.
Everyone has their own unique tools for dealing it. For me, writing was one of the few ways I could confront and start to make sense of the hurt and pain bound up and raging inside me.
As my younger sister observed: “Heartbreak, bad for the heart, great for poetry.” And, on that cheery note:
Life in poems 