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I won’t show my face fully because I feel like every part of me is breaking up into tiny pieces of nothing. I am numb. I want to talk, but I want to stay silent. But the creative urge pushes me to make an image of how I’m feeling, inside as well as out. They say time heals. I hope it can glue my soul back together, or a stich in time will darn my minds pieces into a whole again. I am torn into atoms and scattered.
The Queen is lying in state in Westminster Hall with Guards at each corner of the dias where her coffin sits draped in the Royal standard. She has been there since Thursday and the public are filing past in solemn mourning. A queue up to five miles long as been moving slowly through London while people wait to view the Monarch. The start of the queue was suspended for a while as there were too many people joining it. At one stage they were saying it would take twenty two hours to reach Westminster Hall. It is continuing to move night and day, and will run until the last people are allowed to view the lying in state at six thirty am on Monday 19th September. After that the queue will be closed and will have to disperse because the State Funeral will take place. Such a sad and solemn occasion.
Sometimes I want to go home.
Not this house, home,
But the one I grew up in.
The family home and hearth.
The place I knew so well
It’s nooks and crannys
The garden and the tree I climbed.
The old swing and the rockery.
Doors I shut forty years ago
Creak open in my mind.
I wish I could shut my eyes and go.
See our old pets, the roses by the back door.
Dad’s motorbike, mom’s hair in rollers.
Little memories make me homesick.
I would drive there now at 2am
But a new family live there.
I feel lost.
I wish…
I miss
Home.
Mallaband-Brown