Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER.
One last hour
She sees him one last time
He’s in his coffin in the chapel at William Cole’s
A cavernous space with church pews, candles and a raised platform
onto which they’ve wheeled her son
A coffin made of ply and steel
Built by uncles who share his love of steel and wood
A work of art with mini handles
Minis are his favourite car
One last hour, just him and her
She’s cold but not as cold as him
They’ve washed and brushed his hair
and put him in the shorts and Tshirt she’s chosen for his final farewell.
She can sense he’s been carefully placed
to prevent them seeing the holes where they’ve done the autopsy
She can’t bear the thought of what might be beneath his clothes
It’s terrible and she doesn’t know how to be with him.
He’s looking like he needs to go.
Somehow his face is sinking
and she feels it isn’t right to keep him with her any longer,
She’s got to let him go, uphold his dignity and get on with the job of burying him.
The road
Staring ahead at a world without shape
A blurr with no structure or contour or scape
a moment for screaming that helps with release
for driving out numbness that obliterates peace
Black bat
Grief descends, a great black bat
hanging dense and low
Encased by wings that keep it tight
from time to time it takes on flight
then air blows through and fans the pain
rejigging wounds through new terrain
and stoking flames that bring on fire
keeping love alive