While looking for and attempting to organise some photographs, I have come across many of my written pieces/thoughts/poetry from the recent and distant past.
(Oh no ! Not the poetry again ! I hear you exclaim).
I think this one is worth revisiting however, if only to show thankfulness and gratitude to whoever or whatever did "somehow help". Obviously a culmination of many things, but I am pleased to say that I travelled through that dark and helpless place that I wrote of, and came out the other side and back to "normal" (relatively ! )
Hope others may identify.
Perhaps you could somehow help,
for all the things that I held dear
have left me.
Everything I thought I owned,
all the treasures of a personal world,
all that I called mine, gone.
And not just the material things.
But yes they are gone too.
The things that mattered and made me what I was,
the books, ornaments, memory trinkets of the past.
Pictures, photographs and music.
All lie useless in this new unasked for life.
I did not see them disappear; I did not watch them go.
Their new whereabouts, and whether they will return, unknown.
The pleasure of the coming dawn against the slowly fading night
or watching a last piece of daytime slide behind clouds.
The smile, or cry, of my child’s child ;
the tiny hands, the questioning eyes, the innocent touch.
A loved ones embrace, a kind word , a cared for thought,
now meaningless and of no point in this place I now inhabit.
Of which I did not choose and can’t escape.
Stolen parts of me which make me into someone else.
Someone I do not like or wish to be.
Perhaps you could rescue me
and take me back
to what I was before.
copyright Brenda Gunning
@ Write - Place Publishing