My Santiago

Conversation with my Mother – (1919-2011)

(A Prose Poem)

Part (1) Reaching out

Mum, when you went,

I thought I had lost you forever,

Never to see your face,

Hear your voice, evergreen,

Giving me instructions

about how to avoid injury on the rugby field,

Laughing at your own jokes,

And simply being there for us,

Whenever, wherever.

You were my touchstone,

My base, my foundation,

And it was to you that I went,

For my Saturday breakfast conversations,

My detour after school

afternoon - teacup - debrief,

Phone pick-ups from a Saturday interstate evening,

Coffee at Kibi’s on Goodwood’s King Willian Street,

And your feet dangling – in – our pool,

Gently swaying to Marley’s Reggae

on a New Year’s Eve night

at our hinterland home;

Stolen transfixed - moments,

Precious etched – in – time – moments.

And you,

You would silent – quizzical listen to me,