Poem of the Week–Reflections of Childhood

Reflections of Childhood

I tiptoe back
past doors that are kept
closed
toward the sunlit living room
where funny papers giggle on a table,
where Prince Valiant rides his horse
across the oriental rug,
Aleta by his side.
                                                 …pleasant memories…
yet, down the hall
a door I do not want to touch
is opening.
Sitting on her bed, a little girl
is spilling the secret world of her soul
onto paper.
I can hear her thoughts,
feel her breath
rising from the pencil’d words.
I reach to stroke her hair
                                                 ….is she real?

and, writing in my bedroom now,
                                                …am I real?
or am I just invisible air
wrapped around a cylinder of ink,
this winding wet thread
the one voice I have,
the only heart,
my liquid spirit veining out
across a universe
almost drying up at times,
endlessly drawn to Source.
Such a narrow stream of life
emerging
from my pencil, from my pen,
sometimes I wonder how I fit inside…

By Virginia Hagen
Pioneer Branch, CT

Comments

  1. Virginia Hagen’s haunting poem resonated with me as I am also “endlessly drawn to Source,”
    and helped me reconnect to my inner child’s longing to always connect pen to paper. Your
    “liquid spirit” continues “veining out across a universe.”

  2. Such a vivid piece, It brought back memories past. Enjoyed how you captured those moments

  3. wow! this tears my heart out.

  4. Ohhh, this is so touching to my mind and heart–tears flow.
    Beauty full.

Speak Your Mind

*