I realized I had been avoiding it,
much as I had ‘lost’ contact with people
from school,
shunned reunion’s as a rating game to see
how you've fared in life,
on this, the day, I found myself in viewing
distance
of the house in which I grew up...
I looked at a house that was no longer
there
and heard the whisper of children’s voices on the wind...
grown up’s dictating, children obeying, silence when ordered so…
And as more images tumbled over one another
in a chaotic mess,
I found myself searching for flashes of
happiness,
for regret that I no longer lived there,
was 14-years old,
free from any responsibility and looking
forward to the rest of my life...
surely they must also be there somewhere?
Had that even lived there, or had it been
struck from the record
by too many bleary eyes, apprehension of
what will be
and the never-ending state of pretend in
which we lived.
Blame
Deny
Hide
Pretend
…those were the rules of that 14-year old
girl:
no use making ties, reject attachments -
much easier than to trying to explain and giving
them ammo -
don’t excel, don’t fail, just stay in the
field that warrants the least attention,
don’t side, don’t speak out, be agreeable and
make peace no matter what.
Yet each time the moon colored the world a
happy silver
she felt the shame that wasn't her’s to
bear,
bowed under the guilt that wasn't her’s to
carry,
and cried for the choices that weren't her’s
to make…
Are these the images that remained, even
after all these years???
I stare at this house so familiar, yet
oddly foreign,
where the color is wrong and the trees
have disappeared…
a house that looks like it’s been stripped
by heartache and despair,
a garden that’s surrendered to the ravages
of nature.
And as I drive away I wonder whether it is
the memories that taint this house,
or whether time has simply waged its war and won…
