Titan – A tribute to Margie from her son Finnian
Written by Finnian Bourke in honour of his Mum, Margie Bourke
and delivered at the celebration of Margie’s life at The Beach Hotel, Merewether
on Sunday 27 May 2018
The Beach Hotel, Merewether
Titan
A comet lights the dark sky,
A falling star, a new entity; its end nigh.
“Hmm…Another”, I whisper, to nought but the wind,
For this star was done, its journey hath been.
I move toward it, through the forest of dead woods and Yew,
These trees, my companions in death, of this much is true.
For I have walked these trails for aeons, these sentinels by my side,
My purpose perpetual, like the forest, our destiny’s tied.
The tracks twist and wind, through the hollowed-out Yew,
Until a familiar sight appears, a path that splits in two
And at the fork a rock sits, with a shade atop its peak,
Hark! The shade is a ghost, she glares at me and shrieks!
“Hail, dark harvester”, she says, “gaunt and hooded in black,
May I join you on your journey, down the dark and windy track?”
“And what business banshee, would have you follow me in tow?
My purpose is only melancholic, it would only sadden you so”.
“I have a tale to tell you”, she replied, “as you journey to the Star
Let me be the bard for your journey, for you must travel far”.
“Very well”, I snort, “as the path is long and dreary,
And I could use the company dearly”.
“So what of this star, ghost?” I enquire after a time, growing increasingly impatient,
“For we have travelled far, and I grow tired of your lament”.
The banshee looked up and beamed, the question triggering a sparkle in her eye,
She sang, “It is a story of Love, Strength, and Compassion, of which can be hard to come by.”
She continues with the Star’s story, anecdotes of melancholy and joy,
Of the creations this Star made, three girls and a boy.
Of trials and tribulations of which no one would seek,
This Star’s courage to tackle them head on, a tale not for the meek.
I take note that the trees are less twisted now, their branches in full bloom,
“Strange for dead-wood”, I wonder, “I’ve never smelt such perfume”.
The ghost continues her story, of this Star’s triumphs and woe,
And something strange, my heart it seems, engorges, and starts to grow.
To grow and grow heavy, does my unused life source manifest,
As I eagerly listen to the story of this Star, an inspiring Empress.
The trees are straight and sturdy now, flowers growing in many plumes,
The sense of comfort and warmth did the beauties ‘exhume’.
And as we reach a clearing, a glade in the wood,
There sits a cottage, a garden, erected proudly, as it should.
And as the ghost’s tale foretold, this house in the glade stood true,
As an effigy to this Star’s memory, a legacy that made me blue.
For I had not ‘felt’ in aeons, but her story had filled me with glee,
Of which I then felt sadness, for it was anywhere else I’d rather be.
I approached the white picket fence of the little cottage where I was met,
By a small fluffy guardian, named Shelley, a house pet.
She escorted me to the cottage through white roses, white flowers galore,
A beautiful well-kept garden, such a beauty, I was in awe.
The hedges were shaped like memories, of her family and friends at play,
As I smiled, I ruffled my brow, because the next feeling was that of dismay.
I got to the door and reared – the ghost was not at my side,
She stood at the gate, smiling calmly, she would not come inside.
“Who are you Shade?” I ask inquisitively, “Who are you to this Star?”
She disappears into nothing, save for a little song thrush, atop the gate’s railing bar.
I understood and smiled, as I turned back towards the door,
It was time to meet this Star, this woman, I could wait no more.
The woman sat upon a chair looking out of a snowy window,
Odd I thought, as there was no snow about, but strange things happened in limbo.
“Isn’t it beautiful, the snow”, she said, absolutely chuffed with delight,
My heart sank as I retorted, “My apologies madame I’m taken aback – normally I give people a fright.”
“Not I”, said the Star, “I know why you have come,
For shit happens sweety darling, and well, I guess that’s me done.”
She was so comforting, like the ghost said, she witty and so warm,
My unused heart now fluttering, rapidly like a storm.
“I must tell you madame that it pains me, for your life’s tale is fun and bold,
It pains me to have to reap you, for someone not so old.”
She stands up and takes my dead hand, and looks deep into my abyss,
“I’ve had a great life darling, and although cut short, not one opportunity did I miss”.
“I know”, I replied, “for you lived like Dionysus, enjoying love, food and song,
You taught your progeny well, for they are of good character, of will, and strong.”
“But such a vibrant woman you have been in life,
I feel that taking you into death, the world would be in strife.
You are a guardian to your children, a rock to family and friends,
Your story filled me with untold joy, my heart naught wants it to end.”
“Who said it’s to end?”, she replied, with a motherly smile so bright.
“I will watch over all of them in time, but our new journey’s now in sight!”
“Our journey?”, I cried. “But of course!”, she said in retort.
“I need someone to share a wine with, if you don’t come, it’ll be a rort!”
I smiled, “I have not been on a journey like this before, of that much is true,
A true test of my metal, my spirit it will be, hanging with the likes of you.”
She smiled, “Fabulous darling! I’ll grab Shelley and we’ll go; what fortunes should we seek?
Make sure you grab some ciggies, otherwise our party game will be a little weak.”
And so began our adventure, the fun went on and on,
She made me remember what it was like to live, as we journeyed to the Pantheon.
When we got there, she approached its doors, and the realm continued to brighten,
“Here you go Margy B”, I exclaimed with a smile, “This is the only place for a Titan”.
Written and delivered by Finnian Bourke in honour of his Mum, Margie Bourke, at The Beach Hotel, Merewether on Sunday 27 May 2018, last updated 13 October 2023