I stare at it, fogged eyes, memories stinging; a headache nothing can heal
a black and white photo, under a layer of dirt, unframed – a man, a woman, a child: me
the untouched jagged ends from an old-styled printer, which made mum cry every night, alone
the blending black and white pigments that made me think until my brain cells deformed my emotions into a void
a park, a sunny day, water fountains hugging the breeze, refreshing
me, playing, a soft air-filled ball, a ball that can’t hurt my underdeveloped skin
the man and woman (a.k.a. my parents) on a bench, letting their emotions out, singing with the wind
the trees their audience, looking at them, sharing their tales of happiness, how they wished for this day to come
uncrowded, space for exploration, I talk with the ball about its delicate surface
when my own surface becomes more delicate and we become one
sharing thoughts without talking, like my parents who are looking at me, their eyes watery with hope and joy

the sun shrouded by clouds, me, stepping beyond the open gate, my parents busy staring at each other’s eyes
slippery path, watery mud, sloping surface, tumbling headfirst – into the gorge / waaah-waaah / waaah-waaah
my parent’s faces imploding/exploding in horror, as my dad leaps in even though he can’t swim
the currents tangling
taking life out of him
church services, foul-smelling morgues, the intricate cemetery trying to bury the sorrow - in vain
a photo, a mere photo, tugging at the heart at my heart ripping it, shattering into pieces, exploding my molecules into nothingness
as I say goodbye to mum beneath the headstone