There is a leave-taking.
You must walk into a desert
where I cannot come,
so I look to equip you for the journey.

From among the affirmation posters
babbling what now is nonsense,
the heat pack presaging pain,
the perfume with its impossible idea of socialising,
the slippers, eye masks, ludicrous with their notions
that you could, or should, relax,
I choose a mug with no quip or scene of serenity
but a loose motif which could be suns or stars –
celestial bodies, far enough away
not to speak of yours –
and a scarf in the azure and peach of strength and joy
large enough to enwrap you
and soft as geranium leaves,
plus a wand of oil: bergamot, sandalwood.
I drive home, rule paper into twelve,
and cut, like a surgeon.
I draw oriental lilies,
heartsease, dandelion,
write the words of God:
when you walk through the fire,
you will not be scorched,
nor will the flame singe you.

How slight these tokens.
At the altar of the post office
I box up my offerings,
and write, above your name,
FRAGILE.

**

Esther Ottaway is a Tasmanian/lutruwita poet, editor and mentor who has won or been shortlisted for global prizes including the Tom Collins, Woorilla, MPU International, Mslexia, Bridport, Montreal, and Tim Thorne Prize for Poetry. Her acclaimed new collection, She Doesn’t Seem Autistic, poetically lifts the lid on bright girls with hidden autism, who are going undiagnosed and unsupported in a medical system designed for boys. In 2024, Esther co-edited a landmark anthology of disability writing, with Andy Jackson and Kerri Shying, titled Raging Grace: Australian writers speak out on disability (Puncher & Wattmann).

P76 issue 9: Poetries of place/ displacement/ diaspora/ odyssey: On-line Edition. Table of Contents