The Gift

At your doorway I stand,
                look down
                      golden house key
                                    sticking out from
                                                    your front door.

First time
            over 20 years

I find my self
              here
          once again.

Much has changed
                  all
                    around me,
                                yet the landscape
                                remains
                                remarkably
                                the same....

Your ghosts and mine 
            a much earlier time
                          enshroud this place
                                    reminding me of
                                                wrongful things

                  You spun with me
                            trapped in your web


Why did I come back? 
What made me return?

Knock on the door

              I wait.

Unsure what
I might hear....

Open the door
              I call out,

Look around,
        noting about a inch
                        of thick gray
                                    cat hair,
                                        encasing
                              each nook
                                        each cranny

Upon closer inspection,
                      a old man
                          enters my view.


Once a great monster,
                now a mere ghost,
                              only remnants of
                                              the monster
                                                          I knew.

Shadows, 
another lifetime,
withered and worn,
fingers
joints
jutting out,
here
there,
impossibly connected
to this
gaunt frame.

Crooked and gnarly,
old weathered,
wind formed,
twisted tree.

Peering at me
quite quizzically.... 

“Do you know who I am?”,
          I state his unspoken question.

Head shaking 
        without a word,
                    he replies
                            in the negative.

Looking him
strait in the eye

I reply,
      you once knew me,
                bout'
      25 years ago....

a young girl then
          at most
              four
          maybe
              five

Light of recognition,
                    flashes
                            through
                                weary eyes.

Can I pull up a chair?”

He replies,
uncertain of
my intentions

“Excuse me if I don’t get up, I am now 87."

"Can’t really walk anymore,
                        only with great difficulty.”

I pull the chair close,
                      till' we sat
                              knee to knee.

                “I’d get you a drink”,
                  he offers,
                  sort-of apologetically.

"Can’t really walk,
quite a disgrace,
all thats left,
is quite a mess.”

Standing, I say,
          “I’m fine really."

"You,
          you must be thirsty?”,

He tries to decline,
            I open the fridge,
                                “Rootbeer”? 

He doesn't object,
              instead saying,
                              “Any glass by the sink.”

My eyes fall
                onto
                    filthy dishes
spilling over the sink.

“One of these?"
I question

“Any one”
        he replies with a chuckle,
                          “as long as its dry,
                                  darn cat, drinks
                                            out of the rest”.

Disguising disgust,
picking
cleanest one,
filling it,
cool drink, 
placing
within reach.

I sit again,
        our knee's
                  almost meeting once more.

Directly to him, 
                I stare.

Pause

“You know why I am here”? 

More rhetorical then 
actual question posed.

Looking down at the floor,
nods his head,

“I have some things,
I came to say,
not so bad
as you may think”.

My gaze steady bearing,
                              into him.

Making sure
                  he knew
                          no longer
                                      a child
                                            was I.

More then his equal,
                    and here on my terms....

No longer
        the upper hand
                          he drew.

His eyes,
      still lowered
                  examining each
                          fascinating detail,
                                          of the woven                                       
                                                    cat hair carpet
                                                              blanketing his
                                                                              linoleum  floor.

“Mr. Smith”, I assert,
“I want you to know,
I haven’t forgotten,
things that you did.

Your shadows
still creep
thru cobwebs
in my past

The authorities
informed me,
I wasn't alone

Simply, one little gnat
        caught
in your already, full web.

I don’t condone it.
Hope
    I was the last
            to ever get stuck betwixt
your carefully spun thread

I Would not wish
            the ghosts of you
                              ever on another. 

Even so,
        a gift,
            I brought

A gift,
      I have to give

Unsure that
            you want it

Still I am compelled
                  to extend it to you

Its value,
      can be gaged,
                only by you.”

His gaze glinted
              upwards
                  once more

                            Dared to meet my own

Uncertain
        slightly bewildered

What could I
            have to say?

“In some strange way”,
              I continue

“The nightmares you spun
                          were unable
                                  to trap me,
                                            kill me,
                                    Cause me to wither,
                    not even fade away.

Instead,
I was angry
I stood
I fought

                    Your Demons
                    Your Ghosts

I fought
        with great determination
                        my own self-worth
                                                to save

Tried to imagine,
                  what could you have
                                          been thinking,
                                                to cause things to happen
                                                                                    this way.

How were you
              able to
                    rationalize
                              it away?

I’ve reached
a conclusion
even though
uncertain

I feel
      something frightful
                              must have happened to you, too.

What ever the cause,
                        I came to say,

I am so sorry,
              you were somehow hurt too.

Tonight,
      I came here
                with a glimmer of hope
                              to be able to
                                        possibly
                                          help to release you
                              from your own tattered yet still
                                                          entangled web.


To inform you
            even though
you sucked out my blood

My memory is not
        waning,
              hazy, or dim

The part of me,
                you stole

Caused a ghastly wound,
            forced me to grow

Made me
        much stronger

The gift
          that I bring
                    is genuine,
                                  My Forgiveness.”

Old eyes
        brimmed with tears,
                  clearing his throat,
                                      he croaked
"I am so sorry, that I let things happen that way".

"Over the years
          I've given much thought,
                      trying hard
                            making restitution."

Outside rain poured down
                    cleansing the ground

Lighting crackled as it
        illuminated the sky

I cleaned up his kitchen
        things back
                in their place.

A calm had settled in,
                  now in place of the rain
                                    warm, balmy, moonlit, summer night.

Leaning close in,
embraced him.

“So glad, you came”,
              he whispered.

“Me too”,
        I replied

Back out the door
          past the golden key.

Felt the soft summer breeze.
Fireflies, flickered,
No care in the world.

Looked up,
old tree branches
still here
still waving
against dark, moonlit night

I see
        ogars no more.