Steve GannThe Healing Wound
November 14th 2006 23:48
Watching Enough Rope with Andrew Denton on Monday night I was taken with Robert Hughes wrestling with the loss of his son and dealing with it in such a public forum.
In 2000, I lost my daughter then 19 yrs. As a poet I was able to think of her in this way:
The Healing Wound
He knew she was displeased with him,
But still he sat silently in the greyness of night
Unseeing and caught up in the echo of mourning.
He sensed that this was a shallow response
To all that they had meant to each other
The celebration of existence.
But he could not let her memory go
Could not free her to be on her way
To explore new horizons and fresh sensations
To stretch her limbs and embrace her path
To destinies beyond pedestrian earth bound dreams.
He sensed her sadness at his pain and wanting
And for a moment experienced the comfort of her touch
The echo of her voice passing through his mind
Her glad smile of acceptance reaching back from yesterday.
Slowly he began to release the butterfly of her being
To watch it climb and spiral in the rays of the setting sun
With a promise of return to share the joy of new found celebration
The trusting clasp of her child's hand in his as once more
They could embark on the journey to explore the universe
The laughter and delight of the children's playground.
19 March 2001
In 2000, I lost my daughter then 19 yrs. As a poet I was able to think of her in this way:
The Healing Wound
He knew she was displeased with him,
But still he sat silently in the greyness of night
Unseeing and caught up in the echo of mourning.
He sensed that this was a shallow response
To all that they had meant to each other
The celebration of existence.
Could not free her to be on her way
To explore new horizons and fresh sensations
To stretch her limbs and embrace her path
To destinies beyond pedestrian earth bound dreams.
He sensed her sadness at his pain and wanting
And for a moment experienced the comfort of her touch
The echo of her voice passing through his mind
Her glad smile of acceptance reaching back from yesterday.
Slowly he began to release the butterfly of her being
To watch it climb and spiral in the rays of the setting sun
With a promise of return to share the joy of new found celebration
The trusting clasp of her child's hand in his as once more
They could embark on the journey to explore the universe
The laughter and delight of the children's playground.
19 March 2001
| 88 |
| Vote |
Add To: 
subscribe to this blog
Comment by suitably*wounded
Eternal Days; Author: Illness, M.
I am so sorry for your loss. Godspeed sir.
Comment by JohnH
I have another daughter by the way, at the moment, she is Mexico and sends me wonderful emails about her travels.
Each year we progress. The reason that we feel loss so much is because of the love and closeness. That is both the irony and the comfort.
Cheers
JohnH