Your Last Words

You are long gone and

I am left in a barren desert

accompanied by distorted memories

and I know it is unjust

that I can only remember

those few words

even if they were not

your last words.

They resonate within me

as if my mind was a hollow cave

which echoes of a pup’s anguished howl,

and I do not blame you

for speaking that way.

I can only recall that one scene –

you told me to cut off

my luscious hair

because it was too long for a boy,

because “You look like a sissy”.

Deep within

I try to assert myself

that it would not matter if

I had told you I was gay

I attempt to rationalise

to insist,

you sought to protect me

from words of bullies in the form of

emasculation in an all-boys school.

My uncertainty is an unquenchable thirst,

a repetitive investigation of

the purpose behind those few words,

and I did not get the chance to tell you

the way I felt

or the way I am

because you were gone way too soon

and all I have left is memories

that I try to reconstruct

to avoid deconsecrating

your image I hold dearly –

a woman remarkably graceful and kind.

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One is able to find out more information about my poetry collection here: The A to Z of You and Me