Forsaken girl child

unknown school class from the 50s in Sweden

unknown school class from the 50s in Sweden

It’s that forsaken girl child from back then!
I can’t forget about her and it’s simply for
her sake I’ll stay put and can’t go free, as I
am she and she’s me – and someone should
be for her and that’s what I want to be.

Yet – how can I tell her over the distance
back in time, I’m with her in her sad days
and no matter how it is – the spoons of joy
in life are as real as all the sorrows?  And
the jails family and schools are for every
child – they are something she will grow
out off, like a pair of worn-out shoes?

She knows, but it’s a loner’s knowledge, as
people are hostile gangs in her life and she
can’t share any with any and be safe.  And
thus nor can I? Can I change history? Will
there ever be any love and tenderness and
consolation for that girl to get? Is it for me?

Those who tells me they have forgot all what
has been in the past for them and don’t want
to be reminded about it, but only move on with
life no matter what’s now – I simply don’t trust
them. Because if you can’t solidarize you with
yourself, what then do you give your trust to?

But even in my memory she’s like a faded
black and white school photo, an unknown
girl in a group of other forgotten children,
with squinting eyes and deep creases in her
face from the strong sun and with a silk bow
in her hair. She’s not pretty or smiling but
just staring at the photographer, as if she’s
patiently waits for the forced and plagued
moment to pass, another to come.

I can no longer reach her, but I still have
her fears in me and I still share her lonely
life. She holds me imprisoned in a dim past,
and I can’t get free, because she is me and
I am she. She overcomes you, the present
and the daylight. We are not free.

If that girl child had known any about all
evil, worries and obstacles that would cross
her path, she would never have tried so hard
to cope with life and people and she would
never have hoped for anything for her own
part. Now with hindsight I can see hope is
only a foolish illusion given us by nature
with the sole purpose to get us to move on.

But last night I dreamed we took a plane to
another planet to visit the crash site there I
lost her –  “my previous family” in my dream.
I’m not sure who “we” were and I’m not sure
either if I was me, or a woman at all,  but I
knew I came with my new family to rescue
the remains of the one I once lost.

It was a long dream, but for once I could
clearly remember all of it when I woke up.
In its end,  we could only bring back with
us some keepsakes and had to left the rest
behind, stuff like toys and children’s books,
note books and toddler clothes. It all hers
and spread around on ground. The child –
was lost and not there. And we had to go.

When I woke up from the dream I stayed
in my bed for a while, thinking long about
how this dream turned my conscious, firm
and idealized imaginations upside down.


This entry was posted in create life, living in the world, poems, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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