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 ....as 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.
http://poetryjaam.blogspot.com.au/2013/12/magic-of-childhood.html
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 ....as 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.
http://poetryjaam.blogspot.com.au/2013/12/magic-of-childhood.html
So much sadness in this and mystery too. I do hope the child in this poem can be reassembled at least in your dreams.
ReplyDeleteI hear the sadness strongly in this poem as well. It sounds very hard to be made an adult in an instant when one wasn't really ready to stop being a child.
ReplyDeletesort of sad....
ReplyDeletein some things we have to grow up and accept our responsibilities..in others we should remain a child..far too many kids are forced to grow up well before their time...
ReplyDeletevery sad childhood - too many children with these thoughts.
ReplyDeleteA poignant poem. I loved its structure, especially the repetition of "I remember me."
ReplyDeleteEvery child should be able to have their time as a kid. It's so painful, as you have written so well, when a child is denied that time.
ReplyDelete