Memories of the Past

 Do you want to read a poetic monologue of longing, introspection, and the blurry line between memory and myth?

To step in its powerful currents, as it moves from intimate childhood recollections:

 To vast metaphysical ideas, reflecting how intense emotional experiences can feel timeless and fated.

Yet also uncertain?

Has a powerful previous relationship left a mark on you, as the speaker below? 

Memories of the Past

(A lone voice whispers)

I first met you in my childhood, and I can still remember

When I used to look out of that bedroom window,

when I was younger

Just thinking about you

My Dianna

I think you already knew, that deep down, I've always known you

Maybe we're star-struck lovers, who knows

But my mind, even my family and friends, now that I'm older

Constantly still send me cryptic coded messages,

warning me to always resist

To try to convince me to forget that you even exist

But I always listen to my higher-self, as it knows strands of an ancient greater truth

That still today persists

You injected yourself into my humble existence

In a subtle but quite mischievous way

Stimulating me to look inside and analyse myself more

No matter what other folks may ratify to think or say

What they didn't know though, all their words of unwanted advice

Just expanded some more of my repressed emotions, to but dream even more of us

One day, swimming together in the Pacific's bluest of oceans

I can't quite comprehend what to deduce of you

Or even to think whenever I smell that familiar old scent of your favourite perfume

As I remember the last time I saw you a few years ago

When you walked through that door

Dianna

Whenever I hear your name, It just drives me crazy with continuous questions

Thinking if you could have been the one, I once prayed and asked God for

Maybe that's why I'm just blindly drawn, like a moth to a burning flame

For you were always so striking compared to so many others

Did you know an old recently deciphered occult truth

Found hidden deep inside a centuries-old Azerbaijan cave

In a scroll

Simply stated,

when translated from Aramaic

Love is like a huge red blanket, for when it covers you:

Your four most primitive of emotions

Happiness

Sadness 

Fear and Anger

Can feel totally smothered with only brief bouts of feeling tranquil

Maybe that's really how I feel

Laying here thinking about you and wondering:

Was our love ever real?

(C)

Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.