Welcome to Eureka Street

back to site


For my grandma

  • 30 August 2022

I was reading

When you left.

The news came

Thirteen hours late.

So where were you

In that little space of time?

Were you breathing softly

In my consciousness?

Should I keep you alive

In morning walks and birdsong,

The smell of braised pork,

And my every achievement?

The ticking of the seconds.

Are you there?


, for English is cold,

And you taught me

Careful strokes in grids.

Fire, water, earth.

The language now

That cradles your essence,

Like wrinkled hands —

holding me.

And slowly,

I am losing signal.

A light switched off.

The curtains drawn.

I close the door behind me.

William Liu is studying law and arts, with a major in literary studies. He enjoys writing for leisure.