Life, once,
was sharing secrets in tree-houses
on warm, summer nights
as a golden sun set over a perfect world.
Life, once,
was Tom Sawyer and Becky Thatcher,
the flush of spring on their cheeks,
walking in the sunlight
along the banks of the Mississippi.
Life, once,
was filled with friends
who looked right at me
with clear eyes, hiding nothing.
Friends whose hopes were my hopes,
whose enemies were my enemies,
whose dreams intermingled with my own.
But, now, I am too full,
too full of the world.
I have seen too much.
The minds of those that, once,
I believed to be noble, incorruptible,
defiled by greed and vanity.
Spirits as wide and open as the dawn
mutilated by disappointment.
Poets of the finest natures
who could reach into hidden paradises
and pluck out rare blossoms
twisted by fear and desperation.
I am too full.
I have absorbed this world,
so bloated with pain and pretense.
It is in my pores too deep to wash away.
I can no longer recall
what it was to be clean, hopeful.
I have been polluted, inside and out.
I have seen too much.
I have breathed in, too long, this air
so thick with despair.
You were right, Robert,
though I didn't believe it,
couldn't believe it
from my lofty, teenage perch
twenty long years ago.
But you were right,
"Nothing gold can stay."
They say time heals all wounds.
Some it has but mostly
it has made my spirit lonely,
crying out for friends it once knew
before time took them away.
Friends whose word was everything;
friends who came running when trouble started;
friends who judged me for who I was,
not what I had accomplished.
But they are all gone now,
lost in the parade.
I forgive them
for I know what life demands of us.
I’ve changed, too.
But logic comforts only the cold intellect
and makes no less the longing,
no less the sorrow.
Do you remember me?
I remember you.
We were blood brothers once.
We pricked our thumbs, pressed them together,
and said we were bound for all time
but I don't know where you are today.
Susan, my childhood love,
we drew a chalk rainbow on the sidewalk
and made promises, simple but deeply felt,
promises we knew we would keep
no matter how old we became.
Are the promises of childhood
still floating in the high air
above the sidewalk,
waiting to be fulfilled?
Or were they washed away
by time and the elements
along with the chalk rainbow?
Friend.
None I have today fit the definition I had back then.
And I miss them.
I miss them
and I wish they could come back
though I know it is impossible.
Slugs have consumed the gardens of their spirits
and I wouldn't recognize them anymore.
Perhaps they wouldn't recognize me, either.
A little more is forgotten each day
like the remnants of childhood
sold off at garage sales
or passed along to other children
who can put them to better use.
It’s true - we must put away childish things
or this world will swallow us whole.
But I can still remember
when I was young,
how the sun, streaming
through the edges of my curtain
made me want to run out into it,
to my friends,
to new adventures.
I remember how easy it was to shake off sleep
with them calling outside.
I want to feel the sunshine
pull me out into the world again
the way it used to.
Through my window and out into the world.
The world I once believed it to be.
Author notes
"When childhood dies, its corpses are called adults." - Brian Aldiss
Written November 23rd, 2003
In a list
A contest entry
- Make me think or make me laugh- (my first contest) by MuseStalker.
300 points, ended November 25, 2003, 12 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 13 of 13
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Great job. It's so deep. I mean it's a shame that Robert was right. Because the things that we want most in life usually flee away. But it's a beautiful write. Nice job.
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Mark,
I know exactly what you mean when you say, "Damn it...I deserve to be happy after all I've been through!" When Scott died, I was 37, and I said to everyone who would listen, "The next 37 years are going to be as good as the last 37 years were bad." Weeelll, it appears I cannot force happiness. I do believe it's true that the more a person has suffered, the more capacity for joy they eventually can have, if they can see the opportunity. And I do. I did not mean to preach in a "you should be grateful" kind of way - I make every honest attempt to never, ever, and I mean NEVER, judge another person's feelings and what they are going through, even if I don't understand, I've been too harmed by being judged. "I accept my injuries as the price of wisdom." I like that, I will incorporate it into my thoughts. I know that you have suffered too, and that was why I deleted the comment, I didn't want to seem like I was trying to enter into a "pain contest." I hate it when people do that to me. I said once, I think the worse way you can lose someone is to suicide, and this woman pipes up with, "Oh no it's not. It's much worse by murder." I just stood there scratching my head, thinking, how can she possibly know what is the worst for me? How could she say such a thing to someone who lost a loved one to suicide? Anyway, thank you for your kind understanding and response, it was unexpected, since I didn't think you could see the deleted comment, but it was a genuine, heartfelt, and supportive response.
Thank you,
Kerry -
Hi Kerry,
I did read your comment before you deleted it and I don't think it was maudlin at all. You were just stating the facts. Needless to say, I was sad to hear that you had such a hard childhood but glad to hear that you like the person you are today despite all the traumas you suffered back then. I think one of the hardest things to do in life is take all our experiences, good and bad, and appreciate them for making us who we are today. As Jim Morrison put it, "I accept my injuries as the price of wisdom."
Of course, all of us would rather not experience pain, no matter how much it deepens our humanity and wisdom. But I think what Kahlil Gibran wrote is true - "The deeper sorrow carves into your soul, the more joy it can contain." The ones who have suffered the most, it seems to me, deserve to have happiness the most but the catch-22 is they are usually so troubled by their bad experiences, they can't allow themselves to be happy - and tragedy is piled on tragedy. They can only be happy when they become righteous and maybe a little angry about their own divine right to peace and happiness. I really think that's the key. It has been for me. That feeling of, "Damn it, I'm going to be happy. I deserve to be after all I've been through."
You're right that I should appreciate the happy memories I have of childhood and not dwell on the loss of that world. Actually, this poem was one way of lamenting and letting go of it. It is undignified for anyone to hang on to childhood. We must "put away childish things" in order to be a whole and healthy adult. Thanks for the reminder.
See you at school,
Mark -
Hi Mark,
I deleted the comment I put here an hour ago - I hope you didn't read it! It sounded too...self-pitying or something.
This was a beautiful poem, very poignant. I hope you're having a bright day, despite the clouds.
Kerry
Edited on Feb 23, 1:09 because 'none of your beeswax!'. -
With your words you define feelings that many of us have inside. To go back in memories and see how happy and free we once felt with our friend from then. I cherish those memories so much, they are too precious for me. I still have some friends from my childhood time, but we aren't the same and so is the lives we live now. Distance, work,family and so many other things made us to drift apart. But it is still fine as we get back together (what unfortunetely doesn't happen so often) to laugh and to talk about the yesteryears.
And hurts too to realize that some of those good friends are gone forever.
Mark, this is an incredible nice poem!
Thanks to share your thoughts!
Mari
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Thanks, Amanda. Glad you liked this one.
See you at school,
Mark -
10+
This is an amazing poem that holds so much truth behind every word.
It's sad that sometimes in life you are filled with regret and sorrow. And it does hurt to lose a friend. It's true that time fades wounds, but they don't always heal. Some things are with you for the rest of your life. Anyways this was a very powerful write that got your message out perfectly. I'm definitely bookmarking this one.
~Amanda~ -
Hi Heather,
Thanks very much for the encouragement.
Take care,
Mark
Edited on Nov 29, 6:20 p.m. because ''. -
Hey there again... I had to come back to your site and read more of your poems, which all have a very moving and unique feel about them that is totally captivating. I'm glad you'll keep writing, haha. This one about childhood still is my favorite though... it strikes a chord in me somewhere. I am ALWAYS reminicing about childhood... I have a couple poems about that... silly growing pains. Anyways, just wanted to let you know I appreciate observant, moving, thought-provoking and beautiful poems such as these. Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family too... your poem Gratitude seems to fit perfectly with the season. Best to you. ~Heather
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Thanks HF,
I'll definitely keep writing. No choice there, I'm afraid. Thanks for the encouragement.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family.
Mark -
Thanks Musestalker,
I appreciate the kind words and the 3rd place trophy. How did the poem that this one inspired turn out and when are you going to lay it on us?
Happy Thanksgiving!
Mark -
I LOVe this poem. I think I share all of the feelings that you expressed in this. Good job on your award, you deserved it. Keep writing because you have extreme talent. This has a story like quality and yet still flows beautifully. Great job here.
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Exquisite
This tore at my soul with its ragged truth, healed the wounds with the salve of sweet memories, and then ripped them open again with despair and longing. What a powerful piece of poetry you've created. The imagery in this is flawless and the "voice" of the piece is powerful because it speaks from a truth of your heart. I think the highest praise I can give this though is to tell you that it called forth my Muse and she is, even as I write this, battering me with words and images that will destroy me if I do not run and write them down. Thanks so much for this entry....although, how I am going to judge this contest is beyond me. Wish I could believe that tart of a Muse would lend a hand. 
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