I awoke …
Asleep
with a weight upon my upper lip
and a hush upon my ear.
My unconscious mind was struggling
with a conscious world of pain
the torments and disappointments
of my memories tearing at my being.
A mother who wept when I was born
a father away much of the time
and words harsh and small
and small-making …
Questions and Answers
Criticisms and Defenses
Bricks and Chinks
Mortar and Armour
Words that wrecked
and words — written words — that saved
made me brave
and made me far away.
Hurt and hurts
but there was
that first time
you remember when?
Or rather sometimes you’re told a story
you remember that story?
When …?
when you disappointed
when?
when you failed?
Yes, I remember that …
I remember then …
When …
… when I rolled my father’s Chevy truck
down a mountain side?
no — the first time
… when a ball passed between my legs?
When the coach yelled at me
blamed me for our playoff loss
and when my father sparked and barked at him
in a campsite filled with grieving families
set back on a summer without a trophy
of golden foil.
no — the first time
… when I was shamed
for searching for my father’s old Playboy magazines
to quench my puberty’s curiosity
yet my sister unwittingly stooled on me at the dinner table?
no — the first time
… when I mowed down our neighbour’s
Arbor Day tree
with our ride-on mower
and I was smacked?
no — the first time
… when my Grade 6 teacher called me after class one afternoon
and looked through me
told me he could see through me
saw the act that was me
told me I was an imposter
defined me in a moment
told me I would never be a trumpet player
told me I’d be nothing.
no — the first time
I remember that time I sparked a match
in spring dry field of last fall’s grass
in a still undeveloped lot in our far away subdivision
with an elementary school friend who
brought the matches to melt his
WWII green plastic soldier
and the wisps of smoke brought neighbours
the screams and the affliction
displaced on me by more generations
than generations we had in Canada
and my mother burnt me with her lighter
remember this lesson
never forget
I remember the smoke of her cigarette
burning my eyes and lungs.
Oh, and I remember breaking a homemade glass table when I was two
and about the same time, crawling into the front seat
of our old Impala
and putting it into reverse while I waited
on that bench seat alone
and it rolled through the old farmer’s fence …
I was told so many times
the memories became mine.

Yes, I remember. I can’t forget … ever.

But I awoke …
Asleep
I remember
wet was my head
and a hush brushed upon my ear
an apparition left with the light
and deep now is the print upon my lip.

∞

Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo).
Today’s prompt: write something that involves a story or action that unfolds over an appreciable length of time. Perhaps, as you do, you can focus on imagery, or sound, or emotional content (or all three!)