Many difficult challenges face a recovering Bougainville
The steadily ticking time bomb of poverty & deprivation

April Funerals


An entry in the 2016 Crocodile Prize

In memory of those who left us in the month of April

The smell of death in April,
like the fragrance of a passing virgin
that interrupts our peace,
and steals our innocence,
taking our breath
                                                    a  w  a  y

leaving us running after
its absence, groping for its whiff,
making us painfully aware
of the absence in ourselves
— of some part of ourselves.

The things we shall remember of April:
our treaty with silence;
the words that  d   a   n    g


like dry leaves in the air;
the pink rose that refused to bloom;
the unfinished billum on the mat;
the rainbow that lost its colours
in the clouds above our home;
our songs that’s gone sour on our lips . . .
making us painfully aware
of the absence in ourselves
— of some part of ourselves.


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