One of my favourite actors, Alan Rickman, recently passed away.
This poem is a summary of the day I’ve spent trying to process this.
I Was Thinking Of Alan Rickman
when the clouds swept in, a fleet of blue bellies, a swelling
stain across the sky
when you bent over my body, heavy with need, words
lost in the shadow of rain
when grief circled my heart in frantic laps
like a mad dog
when i discovered my chest is the perfect amphitheater
for loss
when the sodden cotton sky eventually tore into
wounds of light and sun
when the cat curled into a black half-moon, his purr
a soft song of remembrance
when I lay in bed, pain pressing its thumbs
into the back of my head
when my work took a walk into the woods
when i realised every sorrow burrows beneath the skin
and echoes the others already living there
when the trees opened every palm to wave goodbye
when I realised poetry wasn’t enough
when you said: I can’t stop reading this in his voice
when you said: I can’t stop reading this in his voice
when you said: I can’t stop reading this in his voice
“always”
