Blindsight

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Submitted: September 30, 2018

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While visiting my old hometown

My mind replays for me what I know:

azure sky sliding over grey concrete,

chain link fence bowed towards soft grass.  

I tell myself: cherish and feel what

has been so well-saved for you. But each fragment

of memory only drops in tiny puzzle pieces,

struggling to rebuild

who I was at six, seven, eight

I know this city skyline in other forms, I know

the same late night car rides down the highway,

observing buildings’ dark silhouettes.

I know; unable to see through the same lens,

whose curvature has changed.

I find myself craving it all –

those little anxieties,

peace in an immigrant child’s loneliness,

cold casting haze over my mind,

internal tugs of my impulse

towards this and that –

 

Visiting again, here’s what I know:

I’d feel pain for the sake of pasts. Tears just to once again

hear piano chords pushed from my little hands,

hear fights in the household for the power

to halt it with one childish word,

halt my progress just to stand up on my bed,

blackened city horizon from my window

and its endless glittering lights at my youthful command –

commands from my father constricting my chest,

for knees locked together from the cold,

in our car, a speck speeding

through winter’s dark ache.

 


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