Thursday, October 24, 2013


I remember me ... or do I just remember what has been told,
imagined, recorded in the hidden voices of others, demanded
as fact, and absolute, when it is no more than opinion, belief,
woven around the tangled remnants of forgotten past,
and childhood, hardly lived, and soon denied; replete with pain?

I remember me....or are they ghostly voices, echoes of dreams,
folded fantasies, side by side in drawers of darkened time,
where black droppings, huddle beneath tattered clothing,
and restless garments, shoulder to shoulder, wait to be taken,
to be worn again, no matter how rich the smell of mould may be?

I remember me I wander through those distant, gaping years,
trying to put back together the child, long lost, barely formed
and hardly grown, and yet made adult in an instant; formed as
mother in the face of loss and death and grief and deepest need;
I remember me .... at least I think I might if I try very, very hard.

Poetry Prompt: Go back to when you were eight years old. Write down all of the dreams and aspirations of that little girl or little boy. Now pick one and write what it would feel like to be living that dream authentically.  Really use as many sensory words as you can.

Word Prompt: Remember 

Sentence Starter: I remember me...

1 comment:

  1. Wonderful and insightful. Those old memories can be difficult to awaken with clarity.