December 7th | a poem

Trigger warning for illness, death, imagery that some may find disturbing as well as loss

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This poem is in loving memory of my grandfather who ed away December 7th 2021. He survived longer than anyone has ever with asbestosis - a illness you get from breathing in asbestos. Though he had liver failure in his final days.

I probably cried while writing this as the reality only hit on my birthday - and yes I do feel bad it took 11 months for the penny to drop. I miss him a lot but I’m sure he’d hate to see me moving around so let’s do the poem hm?

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Thursday the fire alarm went off

Thursday you were alive

Tuesday , the timer ran out

On Tuesday you died

My mum. She asked for a sign

A robin

To show you were safe up there

Well. She got her robin

Twisted and mangled

At least your humour still thrived

And I can’t express in a stanza

Maybe two, Maybe five.

How much you were an inspiration to me

With all these things we survived

When I was born- ironically on a Tuesday

You came to see me

And I was sick, I will not lie

But you felt the grip in my hand

and said “this one will stay alive”  

And I did and you were alive long enough

to see your grandkids

All eight

And that mini Anderson shelter you build for me

I should really add to

and I’d love to show you

but I think it’s a bit too late

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Damion | 17 | Agender | it/cross