Your Last Words

You are long gone and
I am left in a barren desert
accompanied by distorted memories

and I know it is unjust
that I can only remember
those few words
even if they were not
your last words.

They resonate within me
as if my mind was a hollow cave
which echoes of a pup’s anguished howl,
and I do not blame you
for speaking that way.

I can only recall that one scene –
you told me to cut off
my luscious hair
because it was too long for a boy,
because “You look like a sissy”.

Deep within
I try to assert myself
that it would not matter if
I had told you I was gay

I attempt to rationalise
to insist,
you sought to protect me
from words of bullies in the form of
emasculation in an all-boys school.

My uncertainty is an unquenchable thirst,
a repetitive investigation of
the purpose behind those few words,
and I did not get the chance to tell you
the way I felt
or the way I am

because you were gone way too soon
and all I have left is memories
that I try to reconstruct
to avoid deconsecrating
your image I hold dearly –
a woman remarkably graceful and kind.


One is able to find out more information about my poetry collection here: The A to Z of You and Me


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