Part 06

Possibly imagined.
Wholly unverifiable.
My memories of childhood are
like a shoebox diorama
with faceless miniatures
as if I am seeing my life
from a great distance.

When they burned
the bridges caught fire from the silence.
There was no roar of an inferno
there were no ashes to collect
no reminder of what once stood
and allowed a crossing, a meeting.
Silence obliterates everything
in its path. Even the path.

I never found my way back.

That silence, like a fungus,
eats into voices, conversations,
remembered, forgotten.
I no longer know what
the past sounded like.

When you have run so far that
you measure everything by the distance
from what you left behind,
you tether yourself to a void,
to a leash from which you are never free.
You cannot question why you began
to run. You cannot return.
You can go as far as the leash allows.
The leash that no one holds.
The leash that pulls at your neck,
biting into a wound that will not heal.

I became a snail,
running slowly even when
I was running fast,
getting nowhere,
having nowhere,
forward or back,
never bound, never free,
carrying, always carrying,
the home I did not have,
the home I never had,
on my back.

25 thoughts on “Part 06

  1. Prety muse, she cannot be expected to remember everything. Of course nothing terrible will go away, nothing. I remember every deserved beating, every time the big boys ran away from me coming home from school, bad accidents on my bicycle, getting my hand stuck in a closed door, and on and on. Then there are the really pleasant memories like when a classmate first grader took me down into the storm cellar steps to further her knowledge of how littles are made where the clothing covered them, etc., etc., etc.
    ..

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This touches me in places that I never knew existed. Yes, can picture myself as a nomadic snail who finds it difficult to answer the question, “where are you from?”

    Thank you for articulating in distilled poetry what tongue-tied mortals spend all their lives trying to express.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. “as if I am seeing my life
    from a great distance. ” At 71 I guess it is a great distance and it feels every inch of “I no longer know what the past sounded like”… really nice wording.

    Like

  4. Powerful imagery, tone, and voice. Also, very relatable. Every once in a while, when I remember something from when I was a child, I can’t quite tell if it’s a true memory or something someone told me that I lived.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. The idea of the past having so much weight yet being almost impossible to remember accurately is deeply true and heartbreaking. We are our own funhouse ghosts.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Always carrying the home i never had…..i so resonate with that, for i did too. My whole life a search for home. I found three then lost them.

    Like

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