Drifting down
a familiar road
surrounded by trees
crowned with leaves
floating down the hollow,
I dread each step
but I continue to follow
the road
to the house
where I used to live.
Tears form,
Fear rises
as the house
comes into view.
I want to run
I want to cry
I want to scream
as I'm torn between
reality and denial
all while I stand infront
of the house
where I used to live.
No fear
No fear
only the echo to hear
the wind to soar
for I don't live here anymore
I don't live here anymore.
The house bears
on me the memories
I refuse to see,
the tears
to blind so I
do not have to face
the reality.
Years and Years
of dread and pain
rising from the dirt
of this haunting home
Reminding me of brutal days,
days where I stood alone
in the woods
wanting to be free.
I feel the tears
and I want to run,
I want to scream,
No fear
No fear
only the echo to hear
the wind to soar
for I don't live here anymore
I don't live here anymore.
The pain
can not be my past,
it can not be my present,
it can not be the mask
I hide behind.
This house
is just a house,
it's memories haunt
only if I allow
them to haunt.
Denial will always
be my enemy
unless I find reality
to be my friend,
so I stand
infront of that house
on the road in the hollow
the road I continue to follow
to the house
where I used to live,
to see that child
standing there
in the woods
wishing to be free,
No fear
No fear
only the echo to hear
the wind to soar
for I don't live here anymore
I don't live here anymore.
linked on dVerse poets at dversepoets.com
This poem was inspired by Jakob Dylan's music and lyrics
evocative...houses hold such memories...some haunting and some joyful...but they also only hold the power that we give them...i am glad for your strength in the end...
ReplyDeleteIt's always best to move forward, keeping in mind to create better memories
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful and haunting. The cycling of you as an adult and you as a child... no fear, no fear... the secret is that you do live there, right?
ReplyDeleteThe pain
can not be my past,
it can not be my present,
it can not be the mask
I hide behind.
This house
is just a house,
I love this!
I love this. It ahs a great musical quality to it like song lyrics.
ReplyDeleteIt's not all Dick and Jane, Fluff and Spot, is it? Not Beaver Cleaver, not all that syrupy stuff of the 50s. Behind the picket fences were battles, and dread, cold mornings, cold beans from cans, unpaid bills, and parent who never grew up. Families are weird and those who can, survive. Fine write here!
ReplyDeleteThe repetitive phrase really becomes haunting as it builds to its conclusion. These memories so painful, enlivening a house whose spirit has obviously possessed you with its terror. I am glad you found the courage tobreturn and to confront the terror facevto face. These lines are especially effective for me:
ReplyDeleteThe pain
can not be my past,
it can not be my present,
it can not be the mask
I hide behind.
A strong and powerful write!
ReplyDeleteIn the end...only the echo to hear
the wind to soar
for I don't live here anymore
I don't live here anymore.....so glad you found your strength
Wonderful! I love this poem. I love the circling rhythm. I love the touch of rhyme. I can relate to the haunting memories of the house of my childhood. I can relate to standing there trying to make myself believe that I don't live there anymore. Yet, the reality was for many years that I did live there in my spirit, imprisoned by the terror and confusion that was born there. And when I was finally ready to go back and relive it in my dreams and in my mind, I received the help I needed to understand and be healed. Praise the Lord who heals! And this revisiting happened more than once, for there were many confusions to unravel, so it took time. The worst of the pain is healed, and there are more healings to come, and each one is beautiful in its own way. I truly love this poem because it expresses something very meaningful that I have never expressed. And it's special to know that you understand.
ReplyDelete