Here, in the rooms
of my childhood
I, an adult now
walk through memory
made real again
amazed at how small
the Past is
(to my Present self)
I thought these rooms
immense
& now they shrink
before my shadow
climbing the stairs
the shadow of
my footfall
this old house
no longer mine
(except in my mind)
echoing with footsteps
as I walk
through my tears
& see the dead arise
To greet me
as if they were not
dead
& how
they exist
inside me
living still
as my beating heart
these walls once knew me
& still remember me
as they touch my fingertips
touching them
(almost believing)
that the opening door
will still bring
me
you.
(For Brian...’cos he knows)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful...simply beautiful! Such simple observation...how the things and places of our childhood shrink when we go back...what appeared great is tiny now. And that last bit about the opening door broke my heart and the spacing of the you...me is just wonderful! Superb stuff! love Dee Dee