Past Present – A Poem

You tear open your present,
With a total delight
That tears open my present


From the paper comes joy
Uncontained
From the rip only yesterday
Again


When will I shake the shudder
That quakes me utterly
When happiness threatens


I don’t want to mourn
The child of I
That died
Each time
This child of mine
Thrives


The season still
Is one of wanting so much
For my heart to thaw enough
That it can feel all I pretend
To my children


Do I do enough
Each time
I play
The Pantomime


Or perpetuate the curse
I wanted to remain
Mine

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32 thoughts on “Past Present – A Poem

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      1. Christmas in a Muslim country is a pretty relaxed affair, so suits us perfectly. The boys are happy – they’ve spent the morning ‘junk modelling’ with the Christmas packaging and are now out building a blanket fortress with the other kids in the compound. I’m happy to see they have a healthy disrepect for the ‘stuff’ they were given!

      2. It will be a dry one for me but not because of where we live. I stage a pathetic one-woman rebellion against the Scottish decree that you have to get rat-arsed at hogmanay!

      3. Ooh, I feel like Rita and you’re…well whatever Michael Caine’s character was called!
        Now I feel like I may double-bluff myself into having a drink on Hogmanay and actually enjoying it, as us Scots aren’t actually supposed to win anything. πŸ™‚

  1. Oh dear, I’ve just realised the actual TITLE of my post this afternoon is along the lines of Past Present. It must have seeped into my subconsciousness and there I thought I was being mildly clever with a deliberately nonsensical title (okay, I couldn’t think of anything else). Massive apologies or erm, thanks!

  2. I softly say this was quite wonderful..sad, true and from the heart. Hard to be fully happy when there is such painful sadness

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Gabriela LeBarΓ³n

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