27. Her face
Decibel (standing up):
I see a face, and I can’t help thinking – is that what you would look like?
I hear a voice, and my spine shivers – is that be how you would sound?
And I can’t face the world when the only face I see is yours.
Yes, I didn’t mean to do it, but what if I did it because I wanted it?
Yes, I wasn’t my normal self, but what if it was a truer self?
They didn’t even let me come to your funeral. They were too furious.
So, they had their service, I had a little minute to myself by your grave whilst the earth was still freshly turned. The next time I visited, the soil had settled into its new shape, weeds were growing, and the world had moved on.
It’s the cold after the rain
Then comes the rain after the cold
And so, it’s the cold after the rain again
And then comes the rain after the cold
But wouldn’t it have been easier if they had just locked me up so I wouldn’t have had to punish myself?
Or if you had buried me. That’s how it should have been. You removing the moss covering my name late in the autumn, and lighting a candle, perhaps, on my birthday.
And slowly, you would have moved on, like daughters do with their mothers. Like I did with mine. But a mother can never let her daughter fade like that. I guess that’s my punishment.