November 30, 2025

Leaving a light on for Jennifer Lal

She was tough.
One of those
hard-shell, soft-centre types.

Laugh like gravel,
heart like warm bread.
Thick crust with
baked in goodness kind.
The “life’s a mess,
so let’s fn get on with it” kind.

She lived in the wings,
So happy there
where the dust floats
and the shadows
mind their manners.
Where the korowai of darkness
contained her creative light
In the back –
where she had your back.

Hell yass! She lit up a stage.
Made every little spark
look like constellations.
Created pools of light for other’s
brilliance to shine in.
Didn’t want the spotlight,
just aimed it.

No bows and curtain calls for her
Just raising a glass to every standing ‘O’
A genius, really.
She’d shrug if you said so.

Aunty to all of the strays —
the actors, the dreamers,
the ones who never quite
fit in the daylight.
She held everyone
without making a fuss about it.

And now she’s gone – no flash –
slipped out
between cues, probably.
But we’ll leave the ghost light on.

A single bulb
glowing in the dark,
just in case she swings back
with a smart remark
and that sideways smile and a sharp note.

We know Jen will be checking the place,
making sure we’re all still shining.

Moe mai ra
Bette Cosgrove