# data[].attributes.body
Long green grasses grow,

Swishing, swaying in the breeze,

Stems of red flowers

Golden light shining,

Through the treetops way up high,

Dappled on the ground.

Buzzing flying bees,

Yellow paper daisies bloom,

Spring has just begun.

Bright sun, soft warm sand,

Crashing, tumbling, great big waves,

Seagulls flock the sky.

Dry, dead, yellowed grass,

Deadly, burning, UV rays,

Bushfires scorch all.

Noisy miners chase,

Dying, flying, pardalotes,

Native murderers.

Golden orange leaves,

Twirl and dance through pale blue skies,

First signs of Autumn.

Rotten carcasses,

The smell of death, decay, dying,

But dinner for some.

Frostbitten tree limbs,

Crash and crack, as they topple,

Fallen, frozen boughs.

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Autumn’s hues shine brightly on red, orange, golden coloured leaves, crunching

Underfoot as a scarf wrapped, beanie topped, coat covered human, strolls

Through the forest, their breath foggy in the early morning air.

Umber brown trunks of near leafless trees, stand stationary along the creek.

Mind numbing cold yet beauty with every step.

Nature’s way of preparing for long cold months of frigid winter ahead.

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Whirling, tumbling, wild wind crashes against the fragile windows of the cottage.

Inside, the banging of the spiralling wind drowns out the gentle sound of the simmering soup, the crackling fire and the classical music playing over the radio.

Never ending piles of books, stacked too high against the wall, spilling out of shelves to topple onto the floor.

Time tick-tocks away, like the last rays of sunlight sinking below the horizon.

Evergreen trees grow tall, emerald leaves fresh, wispy, whimsical.

Rumbling thunder growls, lightning strikes, rain hammers against tin roofs, the storms are coming.

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The trees groan and moan from the cold harsh winds,

That whispers secrets through the forest,

As it races the sun across the horizon,

Which burns gently,

As its faint rays greet the people of the village.

Winter is here at last.

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Long tall grass grows,

Sparkling, glistening water flows.

Children, students, scream and yell,

Cyclists, passing, ding their bells.

A flock of noisy miner birds, swarm in the skies,

Chasing a spotted pardalote, that slowly, slowly dies.

Birds chatter, sing and call,

Kids fight, scramble, brawl.

Grass rustles, leaves crunch,

The path that’s trod by those going for lunch.

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Fire,

That hot, raging fury.

Those flames that flicker

Red, orange, yellow.

That never ending destruction.

That killing machine.

Plants, fungi, animals, people

All burnt and blackened.

Nothing but ashes and that thick smell of smoke

Left in its wake.

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The magpie sits,

Warbling loudly into the frosty morning air,

She sings and sings,

Until the warmth of the bright yellow sun,

Breaks the stillness.

Suddenly,

The trees around her,

Are filled with the chaotic chatter,

Melodies, and songs,

Of the birds awakening,

And preparing

For the long day ahead.

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Wolves,

They are the rulers of the night,

The kings and queens of the cold, dark forest,

Where their icy white coats,

Blend in perfectly,

With the falling snow.

The round full moon,

Shines down on the pack,

Painting the trees,

With soft silvery light,

As the Ice Wolves,

Silently,

Stalk their prey.

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The Desert Wolves,

With their golden coats,

Of scarlett, orange, yellow, and brown,

Hunt in the heat of the sandy dunes,

Tracking down rabbits,

And other small beings,

Which they will feast on,

At the big pack gathering,

Under the full,

Blood red moon.

Their howls,

Long and loud,

Echo,

In the starry night sky.

The Desert Wolves are here.

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To chill out,

I read,

Books.

My pets,

I have none,

But chooks.

My brothers,

They are loud,

My family,

Is sometimes a crowd.

My younger brother,

He is annoying,

Always toying,

And destroying.

My older brother,

He is grouchy,

And sometimes,

Quite slouchy.

My aunt,

She is now dead,

Before she died,

Poems,

We read.

She had cancer,

And sadly,

Death,

Was her only answer.

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Vienna’s Aunt survived,

My aunt died,

Both had cancer,

Only one got the good answer.

Vienna is happy,

I am sad,

But her aunt survived,

So I am also glad.

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It’s been 3 years,

3 years since it happened,

Since the unthinkable happened,

The unthinkable that was thinkable,

Because we all knew it would happen,

We all knew her time would come to an end,

An end, that even though it would come to everyone,

Felt especially unrealistic,

When it came for her.

She was sick,

Sick for years,

7, 8, 9 years.

Sick from cancer,

Untreatable cancer,

Cancer that killed her,

Killed her on that dismal morning,

When the sun refused to shine,

And the clouds were thick and suffocating.

When mum got the call,

The call that changed our lives forever,

The call that confirmed the worst,

The call that confirmed her death.

And so,

As of the 7th of May, in the year 2022,

It has been 3 years,

3 years since it happened,

And 3 years since she died.

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2015, 2017, 2022.

Three beloved women,

Dead.

Jacqueline, Doris, Katy.

Brian cancer, old age, breast cancer.

They were but 35, 100, and 42 years of age.

My Aunt, Great-grandmother, and Mother’s best friend.

Why? Why? Why?

Unfair on me, my brothers, cousins, friends and parents.

All had family,

All left them abandoned.

All were loved,

But all are now dead.

Depression sets its roots in my broken, black, bloody heart.

Shatter, crack, splinter.

Tearing me from the inside out.

Rip, pull, slice.

Destroy, ruin, poison…

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She died 10 years ago,

When I was almost 5 years old.

Was it really all that time ago?

I hardly remember anything…

Although I’m sure others must…

Matilda would remember,

After all,

She was Matilda’s mother…

We were so young at the time,

Matilda only a couple of months older

Than myself…

It was a horrible,

Terrible time for my family,

But it would’ve been oh so much worse,

For Matilda,

And her father,

My uncle

Josh…

Matilda had no siblings,

So when her mother died,

She was left alone,

Alone except for her father…

And I can only imagine,

A level of grief, and sorrow, and pain,

So high,

That it hurts,

To look down,

Back into the past,

Where you had your mother,

And you were enjoying your young childhood life,

Oh so much…

Until everything crashed,

All that you knew and loved,

Changed…

And she got sick…

And that little bubble,

Of safety,

And smiles,

And happiness,

Was popped…

And you plummeted,

Down to the top,

Of that tall,

Tall,

Tower,

Of anger,

And depression,

And agony…

So,

Do I dare say her name?

The name,

That was the core of all this,

In the first place?

That causes us sorrow, every time it is spoken?

Or,

Should I leave you in suspense,

But also safe

From whatever remnants of grief,

It might uproot,

Whatever emotions,

It might resurface…

Her name was..

Jacqueline…

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She loved poetry,

But only told us later.

She taught me and my friend Tabby,

But never got to hear my own poems.

She mothered our family friend’s children,

But birthed Leroy and Ruben.

She was only young,

But she got sick,

She was 42,

But then she died,

She adored us all,

But then she left.

She filmed a message,

But we only saw it at the funeral.

She said that we should continue our lives,

But that she wouldn’t be there.

She was my confident,

But then she was gone.

She was a mother, sister, partner, aunt and friend,

But left them all deserted.

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She was sick,

Very sick,

She was dying,

Slowly, painfully, agonisingly,

She had trouble breathing,

Her hair was falling out in great,

Big,

Clumps,

Her treatments weren’t working,

They were failing,

Failing at their only job,

To save her…

There was nothing anyone could do,

Nothing except to make her as comfortable as possible,

For the last few days of her life…

Now,

Now she is nothing,

Nothing but beautiful memories,

Engraved deep into our sorrow filled hearts.

memories of her life,

Her short but beautiful life,

Her life which is now gone,

Gone like the last wispy rays,

Of winter sunlight,

Sinking below the snow capped peaks,

On the horizon…

Goodbye,

Katy.

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Tuesday,

That was the day of the funeral,

The day everyone dreaded,

Even though,

We all knew it was coming,

The day we finally said goodbye.

Goodbye Katy,

We said.

But also,

Thank you.

Yes, thankyou, Katy,

For all the amazing things you did,

In your short,

But beautiful life,

For all the wonderful things,

You brought into ours,

All the divine memories that remind us of you,

Of your gorgeous spirit,

That no words,

Can ever,

Fully capture,

Fully control.

Thankyou,

Katy,

For making us feel loved,

And special,

For,

Even in the darkest hours of the darkest days,

You were there,

Brightening up our days,

Filling them with your glorious laughter,

And smiles,

Making us feel better,

Ready to start the next day,

With a fresh beginning,

A new beginning.

So,

Thankyou,

Katy,

May we always remember you,

Deep in our hearts,

As we continue to live and grow,

In constant memory,

Of you beautiful,

Undying,

Soul.

# data[].attributes.body
Mourning and crying,

Slamming doors and stomping around,

Different levels of grief,

All mixed up…

Some scream and yell,

Some cry and wep,

Some try to remember,

While others move on…

But all,

Are stuck…

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Kind and compassionate

Amazing and brave

Terrific and beautiful

You were the beating heart.

Hello Katy, thank you for being:

Awesome and caring,

Rhyming with poetic stories,

Radiant smiles to brighten up every gloomy day, you were

Intelligent, imaginative, illuminating, and

So very very, 100%,

Optimistic, open hearted and observant. In your last words you said to:

Never give up your hopes, to follow your dreams, to do what you love. So I will, but with you forever in my heart, and that, I am sure, I can promise.

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Summer passes, autumn floats away, winter slowly recedes. Spring arrives. Flowers bloom. Poppies, pansies, daffodils, irises, sunflowers, tulips, lilacs, dandelions, chrysanthemums, roses. Bright, colourful, delicate, fragrant, flowers. The start of Spring.

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Scorching sun, hide with me,

Under the shade of the

Manderine tree, picking their fruit for

Mother to bake into cakes with

Eggs from our chicken

Rosemary.

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Rain hammers against tin roofs, lightning splits and forks in the dark night sky, and thunder growls and rumbles in response. Tree branches crash and crack as they topple, catching on powerlines, and dragging the whole thing down with them as they plummet to their demise.

Wild wind whistles and howls, the fierce gusts ripping fragile baby birds and unhatched eggs from their nests. The shrill cry of wailing chicks joins the symphony of bellowing thunder, torrential rain, collapsing trees and splintering saplings.

The silhouettes of charred, burnt, and blackened conifers stand tall and prominent against the wreckage of the bush.

The storm gradually recedes away, leaving nothing but destruction and despair in its wake.

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Bereavement, what a miserable word.

Bereavement, the fact or condition of being bereaved.

Bereavement, the period of sadness felt after the loss of a loved one.

The sickening emotions that this period entails:

Grief,

Sorrow,

Despair,

Remorse,

Shame,

Regret,

Depression,

Sadness,

Anger,

Suffering,

Hurt,

Betrayal,

Trauma,

Deprivation,

Longing,

Wanting,

Need

And the strongest feeling of this absence

In your life,

And your heart

That will never go away,

Will never truly leave.

Sure, it might gradually fade away,

But it will never,

Ever,

Disappear.

Even though your loved one has abandoned you,

You can be certain,

That bereavement,

Never,

Ever,

Will.