Barbara - 2

The sun had just risen
and took your light
with it
beyond our sphere of being

All I'm left with is
memories
reminders
echoes

What was needed
to make you comfortable
as the year wore
you down

The implements
of mobility
now stand
still

The heater
is cold
The hot water bottles
no longer needed

I look around me
and see you
the way you were
for all those years

A room
empty of you
except for
your things

A sunny corner
the sea whispers nearby
here you rest
until the Breaking of the Day

In memoriam Barbara

On 6 October this year, I lost my close friend Barbara. She passed away after an 11-month battle with cancer.

I brought you to your final resting place
under the sun
in the wind
by the sea

I was with you
when you were terrified
warding off
the oncoming darkness

I made you laugh
at sunset
on your final day
we laughed as light left us

I encouraged you
each night
as you struggled
up the stairs

With a stick
hauling yourself
around the pillar
bereft of strength

I sat with you
watching
detectives
and gameshows

I loved it
when you came along
for that final carride
up to the top of the moor

Your fight
was valiant
right
to the very end

Remembering

Inspired by Cathy.

We mourn those that pass away
We lament their death
The loss of their voices
their faces, their presence

But although we cannot see
we cannot hear
we cannot touch
those we held dear in life

They are with us
in our minds
in our eyes
a breath away from a touch

For as long as their story
continues to be told
for as long as they are remembered
they have not truly died

Footsteps in the snow

A thin layer of snow
greets the first light
of the winter morning
dawning late in pink hues

A line of footsteps lead
from the blackhouse
down the slope
and to the water

A swirl of smoke
writes in the pale
northern sky
telling a story

For no footsteps
have yet returned
for several days
the sea has been empty

A stack of peat
dwindling over months
more carried to the fire
as it softly crackles its tale

Over the hilltop
the smoke drifts
looking down the sealoch
where no movement is seen

Only some driftwood
out by the headland
nothing on the slow swell
is that a sail in the water?

None knows what befell
the boat at the headland
except the fire glowing dully
and the smoke

Gently drifting
over the scene of loss
Forming
A wreath

Stulaval

Now derelict on the shore of Loch Reasort
Little Luachair stands
Years back a carpenter came
over the hills from Bowglass

After job's end he was left
with some planks
which he carried back
below the frowning cliffs

A sound of hammerblows
echoed below the face
of stern Stulaval
Regular and slow

Turning around
the carpenter espied
nothing
and nobody

But the tapping
continued
Soon he descended
over the hills into Vigadale

Reached home but
his hearth was cold
and nobody around
except his wife, no longer alive

The carpenter hammered
his wife's coffin
An echo of the hammerblows
Below cold Stulaval

In spring

I met you on the rising road
that sunny afternoon in April
Innocent eyes looking up
as I looked down

The dark mountains loomed
over the deep waters
under the rays of the
springtime sun

A first spring with
gentle winds from
the distant seas
carrying aloft the shadows

Their calls mocked
at what they had taken
not caring, in fact
relishing and enjoying

She was expiring
as I approached
only a step or two
from the roadside edge

You did not know
but looked at me to explain
what was beyond your days
and was to befall you too

The sun shone through
the pink ears of the young lamb
The ewe was breathing its last
after being blinded by crows