Tuesday, May 7, 2013

" What Am I to You? "

An unanswered question ruminated for a lifetime ...

What am I to you?

Neglect is a form of abuse... a spoken word narrative...



“ What Am I to You ? ”
 

So many miles of roads and skies have passed
into the rear view mirror ,
since an innocent child became a man .
I can’t help but wonder how you felt as a mother ?
That moment you saw my dark brown eyes
open for the first time ...


Did you love me at that moment in time ?
When you peered deeply into virgin eyes ,
innocent as a lamb ; wondering who this gift would become ?
Did you ever wish all my dreams would come true ?


Now that so much life has passed, what am I to you?
Do you still think of me as time rushes by ?
As if there was still enough left
to retrace those ill taken steps ?
Arriving at the beginning anew, to upright
that tipped over toy box of broken dreams .


Emotional distance cannot be measured by humans .
Self-anointed experts proclaiming profound
concepts of mathematical calculation ;
nor hypothetical philosophical consequences
by renowned scholars or theoretical thinkers .
The power of love is infinitely beyond measure .
The recognition of feeling unloved as a child
is immeasurably daunting .


Matters of the heart and soul
can be an unfathomable enigma .
Ambiguous to the blamelessness of youth ,
at the prime of childhood innocence ,
exploring the threshold of unbridled dreams .


It’s been a long and lonely journey
with an abandoned lamb
An everlasting quest to understand
the misunderstood meanings of love ;
tirelessly searching to find illusive understanding
bearing the weight of a baffling void
from the cradle to the grave ...


One lonesome dove's  heart ,
drifting without guidance ,
in a search to unveil the end of rainbows .
There should be plenty of time for hatchlings
to find the strength to fly
before they strengthen their wings to soar .


Somehow the baby Robin returns to the nest .
Touched by human hands, then pushed out ,
rejected and abandoned .
Orphaned with a misunderstood cruel kindness ,
only to plummet into the arms of mother earth ,
running before its wings are strong enough to fly .


Naïve innocence is a child of the wind
Every time paper wings were blown away ;
up into my tree top’s solitude I flew .
until I slowly, reluctantly, climbed back down .


Meekly crawling , still unable to fly back into the nest ,
only to be cast out by an iron handed storm .
Extracted from the nest like a fragile bubble
blowing away in the wind .
Bursting as it touched your thorny rose .
 

On this lazy sunny afternoon ,
the gentle breeze moves the lavender Lilacs’ fragrance
through the tall wild flowered fields .
Bowing gracefully, yielding to the gust's beginning and end


The Robins sing blissfully from the treetops .
As this journey’s pathway twists along,
that final moment will come
when the circle will be complete .


What am I to you ?


A long since forgotten child with sighs too deep for words ;
one left loathing an insoluble hole too big to fill .
A broken heart , never understanding why
the innocence of an unconditional love was never enough
Accepting the unlovable life sentence of a black sheep 
banished from the fold for my perceived indelible imperfections .


 Am I 
?

A humble survivor of your perversions secrets
They shall remain safely hidden within your soul’s dichotomy
Entwined within the buried secrets
seen only in my eyes . . .


  © 2012, 2013 ...  Harlon Rivers

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