I wrote this poem on June 26th, 2020. On that day, some time after 6am, I received a call from my sister Michaela. She said that our eldest brother’s boat had caught fire. He had been sleeping in his cabin when the accident happened.

My first question was: “Is he dead?”
I just needed to know if Karl was still alive.
He was alive.

I reached out to my friends, one of whom instantly took time off from work to collect my daughter as I rushed to hospital. Throughout my brother’s ordeal, my friends would be my Saving Grace. I am certain there is a poem or story somewhere inside me, just for them; just for their grace and greatness.

I arrived at A&E anxious and panic-stricken. I waited for Karl to be airlifted to Malta from Gozo, where his boat had been moored.

He arrived, on a stretcher, fully covered except for his face. Fully conscious.
He looked at my mum and told her, in a voice I can never forget, that god had saved him, but he’d lost everything in the accident.

“Everything is replaceable, don’t worry,” my mother assured him, her eyes tearful and her voice broken. “You are what’s most important.”

At that point, none of us knew that he would soon be losing his precious life . (Or attaining his ultimate freedom, perhaps.)

On that unforgettable day in June, I returned home, in disbelief that Karl had walked through a literal fire and remained alive, conscious and in communication with us.

Full of emotion, I sat down at my kitchen table and wrote out this poem. I’m not sure where it came from. Like most poetry (from my experience), it just comes from somewhere within. The words appear from somewhere lower, deeper than the mind. There is something present with me which helps me bring it forth.

In the weeks leading up to this day, I had taken to creating poems and paintings side-by-side. I’m not too confident about my artistic skills, but painting was a therapeutic outlet I used as I struggled through the ‘first wave’ of Covid. I would sit at our kitchen table and paint away. My daughter would paint by my side, until she grew bored and went off to watch Ponyo or She-Ra.

I initially wrote out this poem, “Rise”, on a painting of a tree with multi-coloured leaves, but it didn’t sit right. Then I remembered a recent painting I’d made of a sunflower, or a sun, I’m not sure. I had put this particular painting aside, knowing I hadn’t yet written the poem that would accompany it.

I took the sun/ flower painting out, copied the poem onto it, framed it, and wrapped it in an Amigos takeout bag. (It was all I had on hand, and anyway, Karl was always one for reusing paper as wrapping.)

I returned to see him in hospital the next day.
Still conscious. Still smiling.
Before leaving, I told him I had a gift for him, and left the poem, framed and giftwrapped in its taco-bag, on his hospital windowsill.
I’m often uncomfortable having loved ones read something so personal in front of me, and I was also unsure whether my brother could hold it in his injured hands. Unwrapping it for him would have been a move too painful to face in that moment.

He read it after I left, and sent me a voice message later that night. Just thinking about that message brings tears to my eyes. There’s something about hearing the voice of someone who loved us and left us that is so stark. It sends me right back into that delicate moment.

Now, two years after his passing, this poem remains close to my heart. Though the words were originally born of a hope that he would live, I still find significance and comfort in them.
I still believe that Karl’s Saving Grace was with him, within him, and around him, gently calling him home.

Here’s the poem.

“RISE”

Rise Up, Mighty Warrior.
This is your true beginning.
Just when you feel the battle’s lost,
You’ll see that you’ve been winning.

Rise Up, Worthy Spirit.
You Live for a reason.
You’ll harvest great fruition
from this uncertain season.

Rise Up, for there is no more
that you can do, than this.
Your soul will sing a song of Hope
As your mind clears its mist.

As your body awakens
to a world that feels so new,
You’ll meet your Saving Grace again,
for it beats within You.

—

Here it is, in its original form.

It’s still for you, Karl.

It’s for all of us, too.

The framed poem pictured above now sits with Karl’s friend Corinna, to whom I give my heartfelt thanks for this photo. X

Rise

Law & Order