Bourke Street Mall

Bourke Street Mall

I remember walking through you
before the rampage,
one of my favourite things to do

The clock chimes
No buskers play today
People sign condolences in notebooks
left by members of the public
The shops await me,
but it feels wrong
to buy that new skirt
I need today

Our city is crying flowers
They have fallen in the mall where you died
We all stand behind the railing,
dab tears behind sunglasses
can’t believe, read messages,
point at photos, try to dissect
what happened
among social media
snapshots

I wasn’t there when it happened,
when the man sped down our Swanston
then plunged into our Bourke Street,
a bystander described it as
people flying like Skittles

I feel like I should know what that felt like,
what it felt like to be there, at least
among the people running for their lives
running from the terror of our world
I feel it’s my responsibility to know what that feels like
because it’s my city, my place
and it could it have been me
could have been my cousin or my friend
could have been any one of us,
because we are all always down there

All too young to die
at the hands of a man
too insane to drive
It could have been any one of us
standing in those precise places
at that precise time
It had to be someone
It was all of you
I’m so sorry it was you

A busker starts to play music again
It sounds peaceful
Maybe that’s how
We will always remember

2017-01-25T14:25:11+00:00 January 25th, 2017|Poems (PG rated)|0 Comments