Empty Knowledge by Helen Mckinney

I was not there the day you left

But I knew you had gone before she told me.

I felt the void somewhere deep

• No, not in my gut, not quite.

It was darker than that,

further inside

• my core -

A missing part of me.

I knew.

We had spoken on the phone just the day before.

I knew.

So when she told me

it just affirmed the stone that had been growing inside

ever since I had said goodbye

and the weight of it

came to the surface

to bear me down.

I lost a part of myself,

torn in half,

stripped raw.

Now

I have a space inside of me

that is empty of you.

Helen Mckinney grew up in Manchester, UK, before travelling to Indonesia for a year to explore herself and the world. She finally settled in Carpi, Italy in 2007, where she found a home away from home. She has been there ever since and has recently rediscovered her love for writing and poetry, dividing her time between her family, her students and her passion.