Raw. Honest.Poetry
Inspired by the 2014 Anzac Day remembrance ceremony I attended in Torquay, Victoria, I wrote this poem to honour my mum and dad who had passed away earlier that year. 'End Of The Line' expresses what it means to me to be childless. End Of The Line
You
Then I
Generations of our forebears
Passing the baton of life divine
Genetic inheritance
Recycling of a kind
Teaching what was
That it may survive
But your bells they chimed
And I hold no child’s hand
When I visit your shrine
I loved you
I will love you beyond time
Our goodbyes were sweet agony
A tidal bore
Sublime
I am of your tear
I shed mine
Of no substance this bore
I am the end of the line
by Sue McKay
April 26, 2014
The Elephant
In every room stands the elephant
Quietly, curiously, patiently, reading the audience
Waiting
Are these its people?
Is today the day its story will be told?
It begs for attention
“I can’t speak! Will someone speak for me?”
The response is resounding and sung in chorus
“No! Get back to where you once belonged!”
Obediently, it takes its familiar place and there it settles
On her chest
Gaining kilos with time as more memories gather
The heaviness of the unspoken words is destroying her
Her hunched back a visual of the weight she carries
So she searches for her Oasis
Bound with all the weight of all the words she tried to say
Chained to all the places that she never wished to stay
Until the day
When the elephant is not only permitted in the room
It is free to say whatever it likes
Whether it’s wrong or right
It’s all right
by Sue McKay
January 26, 2022
Weeding Out
Should I have learned how to be comfortable
With being who I am
Rather than trying to fit the mould
Of cool
Of hip
Of being accepted by all
Watching as they’d toke a bong filled with weed
And not wanting to be next
Because I didn’t have a clue
Really
But wanting to feel included all the same
Should I have not cared so much
To be considered one of the in crowd
When all I actually wanted was
To find my way
To be a friend
To weed out falsehoods
Instead of being next in the conga line of someone else’s life
And being more in touch
With loving who I am
A lot quicker than I did
I might have achieved more
I wouldn’t have sought attention from losers
I may have found the right partner sooner
Perhaps I would have become
A mother
A consistent photographer
A writer like the one
That’s weeding out
by Sue McKay
June 11, 2020