Letter to the Editor

Yesterday was the funeral of my brother’s wife who passed away last month. Her death was especially tragic as she had struggled to find her place in the world and was finally beginning to build a life here in the UK.

I wrote this poem in her memory and in the hope that it gives some small measure of solace to my brother.

I know your decision is final, but there’s something you ought to know.

I was someone before you cut.

I was a tree, still unfurling my leaves

I held a poker face that wilted the competition

I stretched family ties across oceans to a land of new beginnings

I carried one half of an amulet that sparkled with brighter days.

I realise this edit can’t be undone, but I just want to say

I was sun flower.

I was sorrel.

I am black pearls.

I am yours.