by Jo Curtain
her heart was quietly failing
as the light moved across
the white walls
her hands.
she laid supine in bed seeking peace.
her life no longer her own
she had given over her name, her clothes,
her history and her body.
a victim of government efficiency,
she was a nobody.
I watched as she sank out of sight
crying for 40 days and 40 nights
until she was under water and unresponsive.
I couldn’t think, I couldn’t sleep
I never knew dying took so long.
I sat beside her,
forbidden from holding her hand.
her heart pumping golden poison
my own opening and closing
whispering an ocean of love.
she was my Mum
silently passing over the mountain of sorrow
I sat with her as she was greeted
by the breath of death.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jo Curtain is currently studying Creative Writing at Deakin University. She is an emerging writer of short stories and poetry. She has a background in family violence advocacy and case management. She lives with her family in Torquay, Victoria.