Monday, January 15, 2007

kindergarten sketches

Before the flood... -

These grade school papers,

With kindergarten sketches

And third grade book reports,

Bury the green eyed

Child, who ran

Through the woods

At will.

Who counted scrapes and scars

As victories in the long war

Against innocence.

But Autumn's maples

Blushed with red and gold

Leaves, Many years

Before the desperate fall,

Swept them naked,

Into rustling drifts.

They share this secret;

Knowledge comes with age.

The boy's skin torn

Against a sharp stick

As he leapt, headlong,

Into the sullen heap.

Bright blood spilled

on dead brown leaves.

The rite of passage:

Seven stitches on the wrist.

Even memories make me twitch.

The past has no gratitude.

This thin man,

Drawn of sticks and circles,

Smiles though the decades.

He knows who I was.

These drawings have done well

For all their years, hidden

In my Mother's boxes-

Squirreled away for cold

Seasons when a mother's

Love might be spent

Or hard to find

In the cold world.

So here is the stitch that

Holds the flesh closed.

Hides the sketches in a box,

Waits for time to take

The leaves down

From the tree,

And take

The tree down

From the hill,

And in the quiet

Cold emptiness

Show me what

I thought

the world

was then.

No comments:

Post a Comment

I welcome feedback or comments on my blog, but please, no advertisements.