I am she

I am a mother
I am a sister
I am a bitch
I am a wife
I am a daughter
I am a friend
I am a listener
I am a mixer
I am a mourner
I am a thinker
I am an organiser
I am a talker
I am a leader
I am a follower
I am a carer

I am Miss

I am a Mrs

I am her
I am she

July 2016

Honor

Having followed the signs from the reception area, Honor now paused momentarily outside the room, and listened for voices inside.  When she entered a moment later, she saw a handful of faces spread throughout the room; one at the front.  The teacher's desk.  This must be tutor, she thought, as she debated the safest place to deposit herself. 


As soon as she sat down, she regretted it.  She found herself smack-bang in the middle of the classroom, directly facing the tutor, and with multiple sets of curious eyes either side of her, subconsciously sussing her out.


As she shifted in her green plastic chair, conversation and back-chat flowed easily and she soon realised she was the newcomer to this set-up. Even worse.  Not only was she exposed in the centre of the room, but she was also an unknown: an outsider. 


The tutor, kind-looking and plump with glasses, seemed to sense Honor's unease and slight phobia of large groups (or so she hoped).  Either way, she looked up in the break of chatter, caught her eye and asked, "So, what is your name then?"
"Honor", she said quietly.  Introductions were the worst part of having an unusual name.
"Sorry.  Honor, did you say?"
"Yes", Honor replied shortly. Like love, honour and obey, she thought to herself.  It was a phrase that had followed her since childhood.  One that had been forced to hear so many times, that she now cringed inside, whenever it looked like being rolled out.


"Ooh, that's unusual i'nt it?!", cooed a lady to her right.  "Like Honor Blackman, you mean? Well, how very glamorous!  Well I'm just Jackie.", she continued. "I mean, he married a Jacqueline", she gestured to the man perched on the desk behind, "but it's always been Jackie really.  I go by many other names", she continued adopting a faux-posh voice, "but they aren't really suitable for a classroom environment, if you know what I mean!"  Her last few words had started to build to an acute screech, and she looked around laughing to herself, and to the others, who seemed to be smiling.  Honor knew that it was best to laugh along as well.

April Shower

Did they give their breath to you, sister,
as you lay all alone on the floor?
Did they look in your eyes and pump your chest,
until they could do no more?


Did they cover your body with blankets-
pull them up so they covered your face?
Did they lower your lids, and close your mouth-
Show respect in another sad case?


Was your body still warm when they took you
on the stretcher, down the stairs, to the street?
Did your head still loll side to side, down the steps?
Unsupported, unknown piece of meat.


Did the ambulance drive slow for you sister,
On its way back from where it came?
Did the lights not flash, and the siren not sound,
as April saw out its last rain?


February 2005

Return

You came to me in a dream the
other night.  We were so happy to see
you again.  So content. You had
been travelling, as always.  Found,
where you had been lost.


You were happy; slightly bewildered,
overwhelmed perhaps.  I was joyous,
quietly joyous.  Full.  Satisfied. Whole
once more.


I knew you were not here permanently,
but here for a reason.  We didn't mention
any of that, of course. We side-stepped it discreetly.
We were all so content.


Did you speak?  I don't think so.
Like an animated mannequin,
perhaps.  But a wonderful stand-in.
A beautiful presence.


I think I touched you.  I know I would
have wanted to.  But I can't recall an
embrace.  Why wouldn't I have taken
that opportunity?  Your presence was
enough, I think.  Your energy.


In the morning I didn't think of you
initially, but know you had been.
It came back to me slowly.  Dawning
on me, like the clouds clearing in the
morning sun.


It pleased me to knew you were not
lost; that you were around after all.  You
had not let me go, but were
in me; with me always.


Just like you had been all those other years.


Thank you, sister.


October 2014

A memory

That afternoon we sat side by side
in the park,
amongst the trees and English drizzle
that fell in sheets before us.


Holding hands and with few words,
we let the silence pass by,
and to ourselves thought what time had done to us.


Slowly, your presence
began to heal the graze
that time had endured.
And I felt full again.


November 2001