Left in the Shadows

By skinner_jennifer

Mon, 22 Oct 2012
  • 2213 reads
8 comments
 

Running down the years...the road
not always clear, delayed by chance
memories...forgotten signs held dear,
arriving at a fork I became a lost child,
landmarks of significance, Indicating
the importance of my next move...I try
to sidestep, but still keep coming back,

what is this blockade staring back?
For I've no power to recall that which
alludes. Seven months of my life
vanished...a mantle concealing an
education...suppression, apart from
fragmented recollections, leading
nowhere taking me off course.

I was only seven...well this I was told,
a shy quiet youngster, a hopeless case...
condemned to be hidden without direction,
the signs were always there a constant companion,
even then I was slow...trying to unravel the meaning
of life, I lived in an imaginary world, left to get on
in my concealed visions, camouflaged out of sight,

a grandfather at deaths door is the best I can recall,
sinking deeper into the quicksand that was his pain...
my mother always at his bedside, while I in the
shadows stand, to young to understand this disease
that left him to die, before I really got to know him,

It's only now that I realise the mystery of lost time,
as the road slowly snails along, my pen to paper,
reaching out for the truth, how naïve I was, but
like the lessons that I learnt, there's no regrets...
the past leaves me now, willing to accept living
with things better left in the shadows.

Certificate U
Poem
Poems
Autobiography

Comments

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
Jenny - there is only one word to describe this, and that is 'beautiful'. "It's only now that I realise the mystery of lost time,as the road slowly snails along, my pen to paper, reaching out for the truth...' Says it all, really. Tina;-)

 

Submitted by Highhat on
Children are so innocent and So prey to impressions and experiences that mark them for life. A true , honest poem I can relate to Jenny. ;)Pia

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Good morning Tina, this poem was written about seven months of my life I have hardly any recollection of. I was seven at the time and went to a temporary school, while my mum helped my gran nurse my granddad. The strange thing is, that I've no memory of the school at all, I only seem to remember standing in the doorway of the spare bedroom and watching my granddad laying there. I was never actually allowed into the room, I suppose for fear I was too young to understand what was going on. I'm so glad you chose those lines, because they kind of sum up the way I was feeling. Maybe there are things from that time, my brain just wants to forget, so I must just accept being left in the shadows. Thankyou so much for reading and leaving a comment. Hope you are having a good morning. Jenny.

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Good morning Pia, I'm so glad you could relate to this piece and that I'm not the only one who has this block in their life. It feels like I was asleep for seven months, just waking and remembering snippets. I just wonder how many other moments in my life, I have no memory of and will never no. I suppose it's the independent side of myself, not liking the fact I'm not in control of a part of my life. You are so right about children being so innocent, and prey to impressions and experiences that mark them for life, you hit the nail on the head, definitely. Thankyou for leaving a comment, of which I more than appreciate. Jenny.

 

Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
I can so identify with the experience you had with your granddad. I had a similar one with mine. He was a lovely man, and I would sit on his knee while he told me stories. He died of TB when I was four...so I understood in later years. No one ever told me though, and I just remember the house being quiet and strange, and my granddad, just not being there. Hope you have sunshine today, Jenny, and if you do get any, send some here, would you;-) It is so very foggy and grey. By the way, this poem of yours, definitely one of your best. Tina;-)

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Thanks for coming back to me Tina, I'm wondering now if TB was what my granddad died of, though I have no idea really. Thankyou for sharing your story, it makes me realise that I'm not the only one who is left with unclear memories. I'm over the moon that you think this is one of my best poems. Thankyou so much. Oh by the way, I'm afraid it's foggy and grey here too. Haven't heard the weather forcast, but if we get any sunshine, I'll be sure to send some your way. Jenny.

 

Submitted by luigi_pagano on
A heart-rending poem, Jenny, and much more poignant as the memory which goes back to childhood wasn't properly understood at the time. Thankfully you have freed yourself of that burden as revealed in your closing lines: "the past leaves me now, willing to accept living with things better left in the shadows." Luigi xx

 

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Thanks so much for reading this piece luigi, I definitely think you're right and now having written this I can lay the past to rest. The thing that puzzles me is, how much of our memories are masked or out of focus, like we only remember what the brain wants us to remember. But Oh well there's nothing we can do about it. And I do so appreciate you reading. Thankyou once again. Jenny.xx