Remembering The Fireplace Poem by Almedia Knight-Oliver

the hearth, the place where tapestries of memories
were woven by unknown hands, weaving truths
and loose lies covered over by colored threads.
That place where anger entered the threshold
cracking, sizzling, burning, leaving scars for life.

A fireside where during cotton pickin' time colored men
spent long days plowing the fields and no sooner
than daylight disappeared into night, down pints of moonshine.
Singing the blues and hoping this too will pass.
Nowadays men and women cry the blues, and
high on illicit drugs and hoping this too will pass.

Years of Saturdays ago, the family gathered surrounding
old-uncle Bubba after he'd come out of the woods
belly full of moonshine, head bad, and big mouth all
set to "clean house" and getting off his chest old secrets
about incest which during the time of his life
was as natural as standing behind a tree peeing.

The loudmouth pigeon, spit out disputes like spitting-tobacco
yakking about papa being in control of molestation, sex abuse,
and mama and the children behaved and accommodated!
While the story ends. Today, tomorrow, are new days, without
a single mistakes in them yet- oh how we wish!

Now, going through boxes of things I ought to throw out or burn.
My pen, paper, and mac keyboard will write timeless Stories, known,
overheard while sitting by the fireplace, smelling sweet and sour
memories, and cherishing the most treasured heirlooms of a family…

I'm in the autumn of life, envisioning sitting by the fireplace, entranced by flickering flames hovering between hues of orange and yellow; and grateful to eye happy children jumping up and down like flames toasting marshmallows to golden-brown…




October 20,2017