Poem for Pittu

(Pittu Laungani 1936-2007 was an extraordinary man who I had a few brief meetings with in the last years of his life. There will be a book out shortly - watch this space - in which a n umber of us explore the relevance of his life and ideas to modern therapy. I think my poems work best like most poem when read out loud.)

Poem for Pittu

I cried at your funeral
No one else did
It was so strange

I befriended a man there
Dress like a plumber
He was an old colleague of yours

I saw how white your world was
It was a very English
And multicultural funeral

There is a Pittu shaped hole in my heart
So I couldn't write your obituary

I struggle to make sense
Of Your life
Of our few intense meetings
And your death

I have to say
You were one of my teachers
I think you can live
(and die) with that!

It's funny curious
Living without you
Living with all your words on paper
And on one CD

So maybe
Just maybe
You are not dead to me
But can I ever see you again?