I just wrote this poem to Naseeb, my son, on the first anniversary of his passing (27th May). The circus of thoughts and feelings that have been swamping me crossed over with a photograph which I still had on my mobile phone. The photo was of Naseeb at the airport in Rome at the end of a lovely holiday we had there in April 2015. I’d hardly looked at it since then but it now somehow called out to me.
Here’s the poem.
Love is always breathing
There you were.
Defiant. Independent.
The airport queues in Rome
seemed endless
We all stood waiting
to inch forward a little,
but not you.
You sat down on the floor
Calmly pulled out a novel
and began to read.