The Wooden Chair on Mt Pleasant Street
the chair sat innocently alone on the linoleum
red and white square tile kitchen floor .
the kitchen dish towels that bound innocence, hands and feet ,
were draped across its cushionless cold wooden back and seat.
the indelible leather belt with metal buckle
still aches from the image scared on the heart's walls .
never asking why anymore , age has taught a hard lesson learned ;
understanding that everything is not meant to be understood, yet
trying to accept that which shall remain eternally unchanged .
melancholia triggered by the passing calendar page flips ,
reminded each moment can be gone in a single heartbeat
flashbacks cause a twitching tick in eyes corner ;
tears begin to stream down onto the chill of memories floor
the conscious moment slipping away in moments like these ;
the strength of age , the promise that time's seasoning heals ,
cannot help grasp the edge to stop the slide
a fleeting consciousness fades as the dark scene's pages
play back the black and blue secrets of an old noir home movie.
the looks from the corner of eyes
are felt like unintended persecution .
the whisperers heard under muted breaths ,
infinitely haunt for a lifetime ;
those questions suspected but never asked ,
the questions answered that were never suspected .
there are reasons this now is and was not the plan
and yet thankful to be mostly whole ...
notes:
... Everything in life you think you've figured out ,
just reveals another path to another set of questions ,
understand this moment has come to just write what you feel ; leaving written traces of past now’s within the words , is a life choice ...
© November ... 2013 Harlon Rivers
1 comment:
heart breaking.No child should suffer what happened to you, my friend. EVER. It hurts to see the chair. I loved this picture. It is beautiful. The memory is dark and miserable. Unfair. I pray for healing for you. I love your gift and hope that you will someday experience deep comfort. Maybe in knowing that you are not alone would bring some comfort. Not that this would diminish your own experience. But as a hug to you....The photo brought to mind terror I experienced as a child. I remember one summer being sent with my brother to stay with my grandmother. One day she was on the phone and stopped talking for a moment to instruct my brother and I to go upstairs, one at a time, to brush our teeth. She made a point of saying that if she sent us both up at the same time we would break something. I was terrified of her as she was not the loving grandmother I expected and I rarely saw her. My brother went up first as directed. and then it was my turn, I went up there and using the tub since she had no sink, I brushed my teeth and went to turn it off...it would not turn off. I panicked....and went down to tell her. She. became enraged and told my brother and I to get out on the back porch and wait for my grandfather to come home...that he would KILL US when he got home. We waited out there. in silence. and then I quietly whispered to my brother " do you think he is going to kill us?" " I don't know..." Seemed powerless to do anything as if we belonged to them and they had the right to deal with us as they pleased. When he came home he just walked past and said " Hey Bud"....that was the last we heard about it. As if it never happened.
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