Tribute To A Friend

This came to me as I woke up this morning. Another friend has died.

 

A Tribute to a Friend - a poem by Sarah Dixon

an animated tribute to a friendAnd here is the (crudely) animated version – I am just using animizer to get these made as sketches. The intention is to develop them as proper animations with much more elegance and finesse!

As usual I have also written it out in text below so you can actually read it.

if, universe,

you are thinking of taking any more of us,

well let me tell you,
(you stupid bastard)
let me tell you

that you definitely can’t have that one,
– she is steady and struggled so long, she is brave and has a huge heart,
she has steel in her,
and talents as yet unexplored
she sees things differently,
sees different things than I do;

and you can’t take that one because
he is tall, and glamorous and wildly generous
and has struggled and is getting somewhere – has fallen, will rise,
and fights hard for his friends,
fought much harder than any of us to stop you taking this one

and not that one,
his work has been harder than anyone’s, he’s turned-it-around,
rebuilt everything from the rubble up,
and still grasps his knives at the sharp end
where the poetry comes out;

and not that one either
– she is delicate, pretty as a bird and with as a sweet a voice,
and has a baby, and a girl, and too much tragedy, and adventure,
and wraps herself in seashells for protection

and you can leave her alone too,
who has lost so many and changed so much and still keeps herself intact,
leaving a trail of half eaten chocolates and muslins and music and warmth as she goes

and her, who also has a little one and a pile of trouble to sift through, and brilliance,
and is still sifting hard, has great joys to come and is full of gold and light waiting to burst forth
(her springtime will surely come)

and while we are it
you can leave them alone too,
I don’t know them so much but surely they too are original and particular and love people
and are still busy devising ways to find their happinesses and treasure
or navigating searing channels of grief
or both

and the one you have recently taken
(and I haven’t forgotten the others)

you shouldn’t have taken him either
it doesn’t make it any better that he had driven us all away,
that we are shocked-but-not-surprised
that he raged insanely and vile at times
it is not comforting to think that this could have been described as a car-crash-life:
it was his,
and he also made me laugh till my sides ached
he had genius and monster in him in vast measure
and flashes of awkward compassion and love
he counted, too
and there was still hope

and you are a bastard.
Please leave us alone.

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