A fundamental force of nature

It’s been a year since Sofie died.

Twelve months adjusting to her absence.

A full 365 days of missing her.

She’s still very much a part of our lives, so much so that she inspired one of the eleven poems I submitted for my term assessment in December.

The collection I pulled together for term four of my creative writing course had a melancholic tone, which, I guess, speaks to my frame of mind. But the single most affecting (at least for me) is this rumination on the inevitability of a fundamental force that pulls things together. It was also the first poem I really got stuck into and the first to feel complete.

Gravity
Lacking scientific method
she played 
with physics 
nonetheless. 

Unable to tell 
where her
ball would 
ricochet or rest.

Without care for 
uneven slope,
she scrutinised the 
semaphore of squirrels, 

Unaware of time 
as the glamorous 
rodents flew 
from peril. 

Everything as pattern
not purpose — 
even the stubborn
tug to the pub by rote. 

Pathways woven by 
repetition, made
habit for her, and
memories for us. 

Lives leashed 
together by
moments we thought
would never end. 

Now her ashes carpet
a creek bed, held 
by gravity in
her forever home. 

Although she hadn’t properly played physics for a while (losing interest in her favourite things was a big part of how we knew it was time to let her go), I have vivid memories of Sofie watching her ball drop over and over. And now, thanks to this GIF, I can share that experience with you.