Tomorrow marks three years since Isaiah died. It is true, time makes a difference. It doesn’t heal, it becomes more familiar each bout in the ring. We learn to live with the pain and carry on. Written back in January 2008.
.
In my pocket is a piece of my heart.
It is a good place for it.
Close by to me
within reach.
.
This piece is broken from the rest.
Its weight changes
like a piece of wood
burdened with water, it sinks
.
deep
into
sorrow.
Too heavy for my pocket
.
I pull it out
carefully, but the edges
are too sharp
to hold for long.
.
Not for my hands
the pain
cuts my eyes
and into my right. Tears
.
splash concrete.
I place the piece
back in my pocket
and continue working.
.
pied hill prawns 