Anamnesis Poem by Leinad Zerimar

Memories are long...

You held me as I died
(Though, not by choice) .
As if by miracle, I was brought to life:
Blinding light and searing cold.
Then, without warning,
Ushered away by alien, uncaring hands.

After a fortnight of solitary, mechanical incubation -
Bereaved of touch,
Of love -
Held for the first time,
You looked into my eyes -
Both innocent and vernal -
And you told me that you loved me,
And you lied.

Long since have you left me,
But your presence still lingers
In my soul,
Producing an unquenchable thirst.
I tell myself that I will heal,
But there is so much pain here
That time cannot erase.

Clearly do I recall:
When my world was swallowed by water;
All sight and sound buffered
By an unbreathable, liquid atmosphere,
And you stood there
And you watched as I choked.

All too clearly do I recall
When daily I begged you
To hold me,
To hear me,
To see me,
To want me.

All my life, as you looked
To your intoxication,
To your perversion,
To your empty vows,
Away from the one you swore to love,
Though you reviled.

My very essence has become void -
That black place between stars
Where even light does not escape.
An unceasing, swirling torrent
Of despondency and emptiness;
Bereft of anything,
Save for the long ululation
Of a continually broken heart...

Sometimes a man must walk the darkness,
Alone if need be.
But, even the man most hardened by his experiences
Will still look back
And long for his mother's embrace.

Upon a precipice of sorrow
Do I stand,
Exiled from myself,
Hollow and artificial.
Though I cast into the pit,
It's ravening, edacious depths
Deplete all efforts.
Unceasingly do I hunger
For the comfort of enfolding arms;
Starving for that which is not
And never was...

Stygian fragments of a living ghost -
Still bound in that hopeless pit -
Mature into semblance of a man.
Colossal, impenetrable walls of grief
Rise up, unbidden,
And force him to keep at arms' length
The One who might fill this abyss.
Time and again he is brought to his knees,
Forever masticated by that never-thing
To which all unwanted children belong.

Night has become his cloak,
Darkness his raiment,
Guarding the shadow of him
From the truth in the light,
From what lies inside those great walls,
That he must not dare to face again.

Memories are long...