Gillian Meldrum

Gillian Meldrum is a participant in Poetic Portraits, an intergenerational creative project to showcase the creative talent and diverse life experiences of different generations in Monash.

Gillian Meldrum is a retired TAFE teacher born in London.

Fifty years ago, she left her life and culture behind to be with her Australian boyfriend, now husband.

She has participated in community organisations since her children were young. Prior to retiring, Gillian had a career in disability advocacy before teaching in community services. Currently she is Course Coordinator for U3A Waverley. She loves writing short stories and is working on her memoirs.

Waves of Paper

Words across a crumpled page,

Fifty years ago.

Carefully handwritten messages of love

Simplicity in the style.

When the letters came her heart soared,

She sent news of everyday events

Stories from a distant world that she could not understand

The life he shared seemed a fantasy, with no context

A gentle rustling from the waves of paper,

There is a yearning in his words, a naivety in hers,

They could write, but they could not touch.

As time wore on, the letters gained urgency.

The love remained strong.

When the mail arrived, the letter would be swallowed,

Then slowly digested in more detail.

He’ll come back; the doorbell will ring.

Waves of paper flooded her thoughts

Then came photos of cobalt blue skies and tall evergreen trees,

Painted images of such beauty; she had to go.

She packed her suitcase and left.

The letters lie together now, never to be discarded

To live on for the ancestors yet to come.

*Bashert

‘Silly stupid girl’

‘What were you thinking? ‘

Severing tradition,

Parents in mourning.

You felt the pain later,

Realisation of the chains broken.

In the end you could not escape your duty

Packed up your father’s life in a black plastic bag.

Fighting with two worlds,

You walked in both

A different persona, a different stanza.

And much later, stepping off the plane into an alien world,

The smell of the damp streets,

The streetlights bowed their heads and sneered ‘silly stupid girl’

Through the fading light you hurtled to the hospital,

Would you make it in time?

Your brother lay like a tiny old man,

White hair and burning skin

He slipped away.

Kaddish was said, you obeyed the laws

You finally understood.

*Yiddish word for fate