Subterranean Homesick Vision
Synapses firing
memories like photographs
stories told in childhood
realized to older eyes.
So close I didn't see then.
Now brings tears, great waking
sadness, ironic humor.
Scars are evidence of life.
What once embarrassed
gives humility, pride without hubris
for surviving with civility
the exuberance of youthful folly,
the ignorance
only time can absolve.
Songs that guided me,
burned into my essence,
surprise me, out of time
a ghostly presence.
Crying seems clichéd,
out of place.
I need a new emotion,
a medium of expression
unobscured by scars.
No comments:
Post a Comment