How many times do you turn tangled memories
over and over in your mind?
How many half-heard conversations
do you decide were just concoctions of a wishful-thinking
Images advance and recede, side-step and sway
out of your vision – and the faces, oh the faces,
they are wreathed in wraith-like wisps of mist,
tantalisingly out of reach.
You fear that you are merely fanciful, creating a castle of cards –
oh, no, not a house! – of four feuding families
that will collapse under the weight of your expectation.
‘Where did I come from?’
‘What blood runs like rivulets in my veins?’
Now, I know. Now, I know.
The lovely Björn was this week’s host over at dVerse, the poet’s pub, where he asked us to use alliteration and consonance in our poems. I used this opportunity to reflect on some news I received this week about a certain part of my family’s history. It answered a great deal of questions that have been floating around in my head for a long time.
If you feel like putting pen to paper, so to speak, head on over to dVerse and join in!