collecting moments

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Dear Uncle George,

It has been a long time since you have gone. I think of you every time the magpies nest and the feathers fall, gifts of light and dark hidden amongst the red dust. Times of joy and stories that I now understand. Visions of metal that pierced the flesh, that now remain as markers. Fragments that scribe the story; of a struggle, of fear and of acceptance. Hidden from view and shielded by the fragile trappings of cloth. Of a life lived but shielded by the shell. That took, that gave. Of the men I never knew, but who stood strong and proud, as the black bird took you away. Each placed with tenderness the bloom of remembrance on your final shell as you returned to the place of your birth. I bend and pick up the feathers and in that act think of you.

Miss you,

Your loving niece

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