My daughter, Zuzu, died in 2004 at home in Sydney.
The peace that flowed from her sleep
Stopped suddenly
In her bedroom near dawn.
While I slept.
There is a hall with a curtain and an oven
For her body
To lift away
As smoke
Into Sydney’s spectacular light.
On the perfectly green lawn
Of the modern crematorium
Ice cold air filled with fire
In the July winter sun.
We were so deeply moved
By your scared sacred kind wishes,
Evaporating in front of us
As we tried to survive the future.
As she lay there, in the mortuary
I brushed her hair
As I often did before
In her short beautiful life.
Although her skull
had been opened
and emptied
Her brain delivered to hope.
I listened to other mourners
Behind me talking about her life
Because they knew her and loved her.
(Her laughter was real once
It had drifted away
It had gone
Imagine that
If you can)
She left pursued by white balloons
Brought along to the fire scene
By someone I don’t know
Who was doing their very best.
After abnormal handshakes
And crushing embraces
We went down to the pub in town.
and I started drinking
For decades.
