Big rain came the day she left. I woke to it clattering on the corrugated roof, and saw that she had gone. It split us down the middle, this departure, and for one half moon a stranger took up residence in our home, drowning out the tight silence at the dinner table, as we struggled to down
sad mouthfuls of food, and punctuating our meagre dreams with a white fury of water. It was a time of noise and fitfulness, simple things became hard, like swallowing and sleeping with this persistent alien thunder at the dry banquet of our grief.
sad mouthfuls of food, and punctuating our meagre dreams with a white fury of water. It was a time of noise and fitfulness, simple things became hard, like swallowing and sleeping with this persistent alien thunder at the dry banquet of our grief.
