Missing my mother

The same steak knives in Zurich that my mother has in Sydney

The same steak knives in Zurich that my mother has in Sydney


Is it any surprise

We have the same knives

When our lives

Are so easily connected

By flight?


But complacency’s unwise

Because not all the ties

Are strong and it’s night

In your world, while in mine

The sun shines


And tho the lines

Of communication open lie

The sight of those knives

was a cutting remind

You’re not by my side


  1. This is beautiful. That pain is so real, these objects that hold a symbol of our connection that is practically indescribable. And yet you’ve captured it right here. Lovely.

  2. There’s so much here. It is so full. And boy, do I get it. When it’s morning, mum is at work. When she comes home from work, it’s nap time. After nap-time it’s their sacred dinner time. It just is hard.

  3. The dislocation and sense of ‘other’ is really compounded by the separation from our larger family. The objects around us often emphasis that as they feel as disconnected from where they came from as we do.

    1. It’s true Tammy – even the drawer we keep the knives in (pictured here) is part of a cabinet that used to be my mother’s – so it’s a relic from my Australian childhood that’s also been relocated to Zurich via London!

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