GRIEF Poem: Wharekaukau, by Michael Albanese

When the ocean deceived my sight and its choppy canvas
convinced me it would stretch until the end of the earth
it was the end of you

I listlessly stumbled across an empty peninsula
sheeps grazed, flowers fulfilled a beautiful duty
an early-generation phone
pressed against a soaked cheek
presently articulating what
previously was inarticulate
my voice, a whisper over
Maoiri legends and Remutaka Mountains
guarding the grief of
a child, an adult child

this was my time
this was my time to,
over forty-seven minutes
and a three-hundred-dollar long-distance bill,
speak from an uninterrupted heart
sixteen hours behind me, a phone
was propped on a pillow near your ear

I could not pronounce where I was
it did not matter as
you could not pronounce
where you were either
I knew that Christmas morning, something felt different
I knew that wind over the bay, something felt colder
the longer I spoke,
the linger of last words, this
mortal monologue
resting on the day ahead
of the past and the passing

Author: poetryfest

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