The Dark Of My Remembrances Poem by Lynn W. Petty

What draws us back to our childhood when we
Have been assured that we cannot return?
Yet, by some force, it pulled me constantly,
Much like the spawning fish which swim and churn
The river rapids to the primal of
Their hatching place. For years I thought of that
Old house; its musty smell and gabled roof.
Its only access was a single flat
Pathway that crooked and curved through bush and trees;
Where treetops bent together shadowing
My way. It was a humid day, no breeze
To cool my face as I, perspiring,
From fear and dread reluctantly stood on
The threshold of those woods. I took a step,
Then two, then three, by then it was foregone
My destiny was cast, my heart had leapt
Into my throat, my mind was cloaked in fear.
It seemed, I could not see, as though my fright
Had blinded me. I thought that I could hear
A voice, confusion reigned within my plight.
I lost my way, as I had done before
When I was just a child. Surrounded by
The forest murk, enveloped to the core
With fright not knowing if I'd live or die,
I kept on going though, I had no choice,
That force kept pulling me, I could not stop.
Again, I heard that sound, it was a voice,
A child's voice calling me, I stood atop
An old tree stump to have a better view.
I thought I saw a figure there behind
A hanging branch. Not able to see through
The sheath of leaves, I felt the more inclined
To dart ahead but, dimly through the gloom
I saw an arm, it beckoned me to come
In its direction, barely had I room
To move, I moved with anxious care, though numb
Of mind, I thought Beware! Who's there? Who's there?
I cried aloud. As I approached where I
Had thought the child had stood, he ran elsewhere,
Or so it seemed. Transfixed! Much like a fly
Caught in a web, I feared to move. From deep
Within the dark of my remembrances,
A flood of memories began to sweep
Across my mind, leaving no allowances
For rationality of reason let
Alone of any thought. The forest floor,
The ceiling branches of the trees were set
In frantic motion, leaving me a door
To see that most alarming, dreaded thing.
All foliage expanded with such speed,
Away from me, it left me there to swing,
Upon a mental thread, in desperate need
To find my sense of gravity. Just like
That fly ensnared within that spider's web,
I hung in space, afraid that it would strike,
I made no motion, waiting till the ebb,
Of my confused and terror stricken mind,
To open up my eyes to see upon
The near yet, distant hill, that clear defined
Profile of that huge spider house. Thereon,
In silent wait, upon the hill, there sat
That house, just waiting for my slightest move.
Its bulging roof protruded over flat
Unblinking windowed eyes, all held above
By legs of colonnades, in readiness
For any smallest move, that might alert
That thing to action. In my helplessness
I knew I must regain my strength, exert
My mental powers, overcome my pain,
When, once again, I heard him call to me.
I felt my aching muscles pull and strain,
The sweat was pouring down, I could not see
From where he beckoned me. I burst my bonds,
Adrenaline had flamed my fears, I freed
Myself to crash and stumble over grounds
Of stubble weed, of branch and bush, with speed
I had not known. Like a hunted deer,
In sightless frenzy, caused by mortal wounds,
I ran, like it would run, from what was near,
Its fatal destiny. His voice resounds
Within my ear, as though I heard its sound
Before. The smell of rotting forest burned
My lungs and nostrils. As I reached that mound
Where he was standing, I collapsed and turned
From want of air, exhausted at his feet.
The forest was as still as stone. I touched
What I had thought would be his hand. A sheet
Of anger covered me for I had clutched
A quaking branch that I had thought was he.
I lay upon my stomach, clasped within
The grasp of disbelief. Beneath that tree,
I cursed that boy for my complete chagrin.
I cursed him once again and, this day too.
I twisted round, upon the ground and leaned
Against that white birch tree. Shall I pursue
This senseless enterprise? What have I gleaned
From this emotional distress? What shall
I do? Do I go on? Do I return?
Return? I knew, against all rationale,
I had no voice. It lifted me with stern,
Unyielding strength and pushed me up the trail.
My physical and mental state undone,
Not knowing what my journey would entail,
I knew that I was with something, someone.
I trudged along reluctantly until
I reached the bottom of the hill. How hard
The climb. Despite the heat I felt a chill
Run down my spine. I must be on my guard
For what may come. I felt my heartbeat pound
And pound, how still, how still. As I came near
The stairs onto the porch, the door swung round
And opened, swinging wide, he sat as clear,
As are my memories of this old place.
You, there! Stop right there! Stop! I cried aloud.
That's strange, I thought I recognized his face.
I would not let my memory becloud
The reason of my being there. What sway
Of force had caused me to return to what
I hated most? I knew this house, the way
To all the rooms, he could not hide or shut
Me out. The smell of dampness filled the rooms,
Discoloration stained the walls from years
Of seeping rain. The air so strong with fumes
Of rotting wood decay, the reek brought tears.
He bolted from the room and disappeared.
Before I knew, I too was well inside.
I ran across the front room rug, I cleared
The kitchen door and through the window wide
I saw him standing, with his dog, below
The old oak tree, where I had stood like he.
My brain was spinning. Staggering, as though
A drunk, I wavered, moved unsteadily.
I staggered toward the entry door, and there,
As it had swung wide open, it swung closed.
My fear had bowed to panic, more aware
Of sounds and noises, feeling more exposed
I tread more carefully where I might go.
While contemplating my next watchful move,
I saw a toy, I made so long ago.
A paper boat I pushed along the groove,
Between the rug and floor. The color blue,
Dyed in the rug, had been my bounty main.
I clipped together paperclips and drew
Them like a train or made them like a chain.
My loneliness had been my childhood's bane.
When I had entered the front door I saw
The boy at play. A world of his domain.
I played with these same toys. What do I draw
From this? I thought. Awakened from my daze,
I heard a jolting noise from up above.
I sprinted up the staircase, through a maze
Of cobwebs, down the hall to the alcove,
Into the bedroom of my childhood days.
I hated every aspect of this place.
I hated all my childhood, just as well.
I pulled the shade down from the window case
To give me light, the room seemed like a cell.
I raised the window for some air, how warm,
How stuffy, not a breath to breathe. I blamed
My mother for my wrath, my mind a storm
Of fierce anxieties which had inflamed
My childish mind to conjure up all those
Imaginings that haunted me when young.
She left me by myself. What to suppose,
Alone inside that spider house? It wrung
The life from me to know that she was gone.
What could I do, for I was only five.
My bedroom window faced the front yard lawn
I thought what evil could he now contrive?
The air was still and close, how faint I felt.
I closed my eyes and prayed for some relief.
Humidity was high, I thought I'd melt
When suddenly, what seemed beyond belief,
A Shadow of some hidden power touched
The very seat of my most inner self.
I sensed a presence. Terrified, I clutched
The headboard of the bed. I felt myself
Immersed in haunting memories. Dark clouds
Of apprehension surged about my brain.
Immobilized, anchored to the floor, shrouds,
Of fear and dread spread over me, no grain
Of strength remained. It was as if I died,
As though my soul had lived another life,
And looked upon its own gravesite. I tried
To turn, and turning, saw a face so rife
With sadness yet, beneath it there was glee;
His arms outstretched; his tears were streaming down
His cheeks; his countenance, a spirit free;
He leapt into my arms, two spirits thrown
Together, spinning back through soundless space,
Two spirits of the same embrace, two lives
Retraced; our childhood intertwined, through grace,
Our childhood interlaced. The force that drives
Existence drove the two of us as one.
'Love me don't hate me, ' he cried in despair.
Before he spoke, before he had begun,
I felt my wounded heart was in repair.
'Open your heart that I might abide there.'
He pleaded tearfully that I might see,
To love, forgive, to recognize, to care,
To know that he is me and I am he.
I do, I will! I said with sobbing voice.
I do, I will! I said again. Then, through
My tears I asked his name, with great rejoice,
'My name is your name; I thought that you knew, '
He said while smiling. 'I am that childhood
You hate and revile.' I cupped my hands around
His face and deeply gazed into the good
Of his compassionate eyes. There, I found,
Upon the screen of time, an image, yes,
A vision of my mother's face. An air
Of sadness filled her eyes, as if distress
Had overcome her, leaving her to bear
The guilt I placed upon her blameless soul.
I saw that she had left me, true; that she
Had worked those hours, too. Then, on that scroll
Of endless time, that separates, what we
Call life and death, I saw a brighter light
Beyond her smile and, knew we understood.
I sat upon the bed and, thought what might
This whole thing mean, forgetting that he stood
Before me. When I looked into my two
Cupped hands, my hands were cupped with nothingness.
Was it a fantasy? Could it be true?
Yet, I remember his last words; express
His meaning by his gestures; heard him speak.
His words were fused into my willing heart:
The whole experience had left me weak.
Remembering his words, which still impart
The balm to my old wounds and infant years.
'Hold no deep hatred, not even disdain.'
Which pierced my soul and brought a flood of tears,
'Love those who hurt you, release the past pain.'
I opened up the kitchen door and stepped
Into my present life, to walk the road
Of expectation and belief, accept
My childhood's past for what it was and, strode
That lonely pathway, through that little stand
Of trees and bush that I had dreaded so.
'Did you enjoy revisiting your grand
Old house, upon that hill? That old ‘chateau, '
That terrorized your dreams? ' 'Oh, yes I did, '
Responding to the question from my wife.
It opened up my eyes. I saw amid
My anxious fears the ‘truth' which, banished strife,
And all the infantile conflicts of mind.
We talked until we reached the car. I glanced
Back toward the house and saw him smile his kind
And fresh-faced smile. From down the road I chanced
Upon an old farmhand who happened by.
He asked me why I stopped by this old farm.
Explaining what my reasons were, and why,
He said, 'A shame that you should come, No harm
I guess, to break the news to you but, son,
That house burned down in nineteen eighty one.'