This is how I know that I was dirt poor growing up
without a thought that anyone around me
might have it different
early realizing all that we didn't have
when my father thrust a pillow case into my hands
& told me to pack
we were leaving
I bawled my eyes out
until my hands shook
sobbing shocked at how little there was to leave behind
& how frightened I was to go
This is how I know that I was cut from tougher cloth
coarse enough to shield me
from barbed wire and broken glass
knowing all the ways a good coat can be more
than just a garment to stop the cold
but also a blanket
a shelter
cloaked, I hunkered down until the storms had blown through
until the trouble and the terror subside
This is how I know that memory is a glorious and risky indulgence
it's not that I'm afraid to be alone with my own thoughts
it's the way that sorrow beckons, reminding me of all
I never want to forget
where I came from
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And where you come from makes you the person you are today. A very beautiful write; you. Your words sink down within and nestle deep.
ReplyDeleteIt is only them who are reduced to a "pillow case" move that want to forget their roots. wonderful piece H.
ReplyDeleteThe last verse says it all.
ReplyDeleteOn the subject of memory: try and get your eyes on Chris Marker's Sans Soleil.
How Hearts Are Shaped
ReplyDeleteYou said, "We're moving."
My heart broke, bound for the farm,
I lost my one friend.
Mrs. Looper taught
fourth grade and Mrs. Winston
fifth, with her bad teeth.
Then in seventh grade
you said, "We must move again."
My heart broke for good,
when I knew my friend,
my new only friend would be
lost just like before.
Lovely Poem,
ReplyDeleteI've only been able to imagine such a childhood, as mine was affluent. Though I do remember being shot through with emotion about the kids I met throughout childhood who were on the margins due to their poverty. Knowing some of them now it is horrifying to remember the places they were swept toward back them.
Thanks for your poem... I'll be thinking about it throughout the day.
SarahA-- thanks; i like that word : nestle. appreciate your sentiments.
ReplyDeleteWM-- glad you enjoyed; this was a strange one... sometimes ya never know where or when these poems will push their way to the surface
Pisces-- thanks for the author.... i will look this up for sure. appreciate the kind comment, too.
Christopher--thanks for this lovely evocative poem; what a gift.
Andy-- hi there and nice to see you!! thanks for the reflections and the kind comment.
A meal on the table and a roof over ones head does not protect the spirit...It can be damage on a full stomach and the coat in the closet. maybe the gift is the tougher cloth.. Who knows??? Tweaty
ReplyDeletetweaty-- i give thanks daily for the tougher cloth; this i know.
ReplyDeletethanks for the visit and the comment
I wrote for this site last night and did not post it. I’ll now try again.
ReplyDelete‘I bawled my eyes out
until my hands shook
sobbing shocked at how little there was to leave behind
& how frightened I was to go’
This moment for me was when I heard my wife,
mistreat my daughter
by another marriage.
I literally felt my heart break.
(Literally) literally
When she was gone,
every thing that had meaning to me could have been carry in a pillowcase.
My daughter is continuing Bliss in my life.
Punch-- thanks for this thoughtful and tender post; funny how words and images can tweak those events that are hibernating ... hugs to you and your daughter.
ReplyDelete