Folding Wings

For years we were
searching for each other
in every passing stranger;

with each face, a glimmer of hope
and as quickly as it came into detail
it fell away
like leaves in streetlight glow

what might be your smile,
what might be your eyes
..someone else's

would you of recognised me
the way someone who has read my poetry
could not recognise the poems by my eyes?

We each were told, the other had died
but you could feel
when it snowed
that I was watching it from some window.

Remembering how
I would stack all my toy cars against the skirting neatly;
sit upon the windowsill
and describe each and every flake as it fell discreetly.

You don't realise how far apart the stars are..
how far away the moon is;
unless you know
that the one you are thinking of is looking at them too.
That is what they mean to be there.

I have been as an origami dove
folded by the wrong hands
to keep me from seeing
the truth underneath its wings.

Crayons, toys, bedtime stories.
Museums, parks and protection houses
could not always
distract me
from the cruelty around us..

though I still need
to be distracted from the world.
To be absorbed in the lives of others
while they tread upon
a child's pavement drawings

only when they do not notice
that they are living
but are simply
existing quietly
like butterflies lost in thought.

People whose lives have not been ruined
before they had chance to flourish-
what do they wish for..
as I have wished for?
to be left alone and nothing more

..whose lives have ran parallel
with the trains;
only a little off schedule,
while I have wandered
along the tracks
waiting for a train that never arrives
to take me back ;

that I might enter life again
from a different star,
and not of have these memories
that spread wide and far
like the entire ocean
snared and slashed
by a single jagged stone.

I hear in the waves lapping calm against the shore
not a calming repose
but the bicker of a studded belt
leave ripples down my spine.

I have looked up at the sky
to see birds as far dots
like beauty spots marking a perfect
blue cheek
reminded of the freckles on your face

little fragments of memory tell
of how close we were
before we were separated.

Amnesia and trauma
held no discretion
in what they would erase
from my childhood memories.

I'm told that my depression is inherited,
As though my soul were
the last light flickering
on a long wire of lights all gone out.

I have lived with a vast feeling of distance
that only far fields, lost avenues,
transient waltz of leaves scraping and lifting
from the street
have caught my attention.

I clench my fists
and feel the universe stretch
and the stars drift further apart

because I have seen
before I was seven
such torture and neglect.
there aren't the words that can reflect

how a bracelet lost at the bottom of a pool
amongst a rusted lot
can be found still intact;
a little tarnished- but only that.

I merely
folded the world flat
as an origami bird
released from the cage
of a child disturbed.

I took each memory,
each tainted wing
between my teeth
between my eyelids

I shut my eyes
I bit down hard.

I stared into the sun
to wash away the blood from my eyes
they became black holes
they devoured my face,
my soul.

Then I prized them open
until the world came into focus.
Aimlessly.
A motherless sky.
A fatherless breeze.

My hands felt feather light
I watched them blow away with ease
not knowing why.
I made a wish on them
and forgot that too..
I think it came true.

It was as if
at slightest touch
I had pushed open some otherworldly gate
and recognized the sound it made
from another childhood;
walked into the world
and thought,
I've been here once before
and nothing more.

People who
hide there scars
they wish for nothing
on passing stars..
they let them be.

The way the woman that kept us safe
showed no trace of anguish
as she tucked us in bed
with bruised ribs, with
stained glass eyes
holding back the rain

that showed no signs
that it could break
and a hushed voice
that has ever since
narrated my every thought
and whispered to me these lines.

• On Wednesday, March 11, 2009, saintedmad (1418) wrote:
  
  such an isolative yet encapsualting voice in this; the s.weeping grandeur of so many lines and images: but mostly motherless sky, fatherless breeze... the feeling of loss and choking back words and memories is palpable.. .. i feel like i should be silent. that ive intruded or overheard a confessional prayer, an open wound crying for what it could possibly want.....to be. whole. gracious. with life still un.folding.. .. blessings to you toujours~
  
  
• On Wednesday, March 11, 2009, Mona (96) wrote:
  
  I've never been so caught up in a poem. Your words, just...I was reading and suddenly it was as if I was in another realm or world... The best poem ever.