a stranger has crawled under
my skin
with aged folds, long unkempt
nailshe struggles to bathe every other day
his torn unwashed flannel shirt
sleeves rolled up and a pair of jeans worn
needing to jump in the shower with him
he carries luggage, inside strewn
pictures
and olden bound notebookswith smudged pencil scribbles
and ink written memories now run
from line to line with the passing of time
this luggage with a skeleton
key lock
has been opened takes
himon a path of trails intentionally
long forgotten he knows,
unless discarded in the river,
he'll carry this luggage around forever
he pulls out this
note book,
thin wire bound card board flaps,flips them open discovering
his forgotten demons plundered in pain
slightly legible on smudged pages stained
with tears and occasional drops
of fading blood
arm hair raise as he reads these
sadden memories causing
his eyesto weld with tears, heart laments
with estranged beating rhythms
struggles confronting his past
wrestles with anguish and anger
I realize I do not like his
company
so I close the notebook flaptoss it back into the decrepit old luggage
I lumber to the rivers edge fling it
with great might out as far as possible
watch it as slowly to the bottom
it sinks where it will catch passing
debris and fish will nest upon it
so long stranger
sometimes the past is best left buried.
ReplyDeleteThis is very deep, my friend. Yes, time to toss the pain away and be so grateful that our lives now contain much more sunshine than they did then.
ReplyDelete