Crystal hung window,
the way you throw
rainbow shards at the walls
when the earth tilts towards the sun.
My sister and I begged you
to tell us what it was like
out there after you were gone.
I’ll send you a message, you said,
your violet eyes full of intent.
You left from a Sydney hospice bed,
the covers barely raised.
Too thin for your body
to make an impression,
your head cradled above
the broken stalk of your neck.
Months later I was given my inheritance.
A crystal swinging
from a turquoise beaded fishing line.
I hung it in my window,
where it would catch light best.
I waited for the sun,
for your redblueyelloworange yell,
for a message made of light and cut glass.
A message that sends as the earth turns.
All colour, the brightest hello.