James Christofi (02/April/1988 - 22/May/2021)

 

 30-March-2023, is the exact date
That I heard about your fate.
I was chatting and having a laugh
With a new member of staff,
Just like me she had worked in High Down prison.
Coincidence? Or do things happen for a reason?
We talked about people who we knew,
And James that’s when I mentioned you,
Solemnly she replied
“Oh, have you not heard James died?”
In shock I screamed, unable to believe my ears.
Suddenly my eyes welled up with tears.
She continued “James died two years ago.
Mr.Talabi did you not know?”

Memories of you came flooding back there and then,
We worked as Operational Support way back when.
You were in your twenties but very mature,
Quick-witted and happy-go-lucky by nature.
I can still see you in your hi-vis, hard hat and steel toe,
A young man full of so much get-up-and-go.
No job was too big or too hard,
Conscientiousness was your trump card.
James I remember when we stood in the freezing cold,
Watching the contractors working on a scaffold,
You did not flinch or complain one bit
Other guys your age would have thrown a hissy-fit.
Instead you regaled me with jokes and tall tales,
No doubt about it you were tough as nails.

And what about the train ride home from Sutton
Your company is something no one can put a price on.
If I had to describe it I will have to say,
“With James Christofi there is never a boring day”.
You could talk about anything and everything,
Knowledgeable and always full of the joys of spring.
This is why the news of your death knocked me for six,
It feels like being hit by a ton of bricks.
I keep asking “Why? How? Why?
At such a young age why and how did James die?”
Indeed we lost contact after I left High Down, that is true,
But I would never have thought such a misfortune could visit you.
My condolence to your mom, sisters and to the son you left,
Heaven above has gained an angel but earth is now bereft
                  R.I.P

Postnatal Depression

 Postnatal depression is real
And this is how I feel
Sad, lonely, depressed, withdrawn,
No enjoyment and emotionally worn
I have no bond with my baby, none at all,
My emotions bounce about like a ping-pong ball.
My maternal instincts are very fleeting
A now-you-see-it, now-you-don’t type of thing.
But surprisingly the pregnancy gave me joy
More so when the sonographer said “It’s a boy!”

My partner and I painted the spare room baby-blue
The clothes we bought were also of the same hue
Cuddly toys and cherubs littered the window sill
My baby’s room wasn’t going to be run-of-the-mill,
It certainly reflected the joy
The joy that I was expecting a baby boy.
The buntings bore his name in capital letters
He was to be christened Tyler James Peters,
The name my partner and I agreed upon
On tenterhooks we waited till the day he was born.

Postnatal depression is real
And this is how I feel
One minute I am cradling baby Tyler in my arms
Next minute I want to smother him with my palms.
At night I get out of bed kissing my teeth and sighing,
Cursing this innocent baby for waking me up with his crying.
One night I felt like throwing Tyler out of the window,
What stopped me? To this day I honestly do not know.
Later I cried disconsolately for thinking such a thing
I even wanted to do myself in.

Postnatal depression is real
And this is how I feel
I can’t relish the joy that motherhood brings
Due to my ever-changing mood swings.
I can’t even care for myself anymore,
No Lipstick or curled hair like I used to do before.
I resemble something the cat dragged in,
My partner is too tired from work to notice anything.
In my head I feel like my baby is a mere stranger
Deep in my heart I know his life is in grave danger

Postnatal depression is real
And this is how I feel,
My emotions are running wild
And I don’t trust myself with my child.
The doctor has confirmed its postnatal depression
Severe mental and emotional oppression.
I am hanging on to my sanity by my finger nails
My relationship with my partner has gone off the rails.
Now I’m seriously thinking about the option,
The option to give my innocent baby up for adoption.
Postnatal depression is real
And this is how I feel.

Abdul Azeez

 I remember the day we met
That day I certainly won't forget
It was at the famous Hyde Park
Midnight had fallen and everywhere was dark
My feet made no sound
As I silently cruised around

Then I saw you standing beside a tree
Like the gods planted you there for me
I walked up to you
At least somebody had to
Then very bravely I touched you there
And your reply was 'no not here'

We walked to secluded place
There we stood man to man, face to face
And started a wild passionate kiss
For me this was extreme bliss
From passionate kissing I entered you
And I heard you moan Ooooooooh.

After a while we both came
Passions dying like an unkindled flame
For some minutes we were in a silent mood
Then you spoke and pronounced my love making good
My name and number you then asked for
I told you my name is David Radfurr

In your diary you wrote my phone number
You promised not to forget but always remember
You introduced yourself as Abdul Azeez
Held my chin and gave me a kiss
And you said 'I will call you soon'
My only witness was the full moon.

Day and night I sit by the phone
Biting and chewing my fingers to the bone
Hoping and praying that you will ring
To fix a day for another fling
Azeez my heart aches for you in pain
Bismillah! Why can't we meet again?

If you come across this poem somewhere
In a book, magazine, or maybe anywhere
Just know that it's me
Feeling sad, bad and angry
As I sit here all alone
Anxiously waiting for you to phone.

They Call It Depression

I can’t get it into my head
That I need to get out of bed
I can’t shake this feeling of gloom
As I lay in darkness in my bedroom
Unable to draw the curtains to let in a sunray
Or a shimmer of light to brighten my day.
Having a shower seems like hard labour
I can’t even do a single house chore.
All my get-up-and-go is no longer there
And my self-esteem has vanished into thin air

“I will clean up tomorrow” I tell myself,
But tomorrow all good intention goes on the shelf.
Like a broken record I say again “I will do it tomorrow”
And not getting it done tomorrow adds to my sorrow.
It’s an overall feeling of absolute hopelessness,
Not laziness, just a feeling of complete helplessness.
Many times I catch myself in tears crying
Shaking my head and sighing.
Suicide has crossed my mind I won’t lie
But I think of those I’ll hurt if were to die

The doctors say it is depression
Mental, physical and emotional oppression
It can last for weeks, months and even years
Or till the day you leave this vale of tears.
For those of you that see no end in sight,
At the end of the tunnel you foresee no light,
I assure you there is help out there,
Doctors, nurses and other people who care.
I pray divine and medical help reaches you
And may you find the strength to pull through
Amen.

 

I wrote this short poem about Depression. Please read and share your thoughts and experiences. Thank you. © Jul '22, GK.Talabi