Remember… if I can.
Can it be I don’t remember you?
You seem familiar, but...
but I don’t know who.
Who are these people?
People I don’t remember.
Remember when I was young?
Young and alone, in December.
December then ~ remember when?
When I became John’s wife?
Wife, he said, I want you to be.
Be mine, my wife, for all my life.
Life was hard, so sad was I;
I wanted to die. My young man, brave,
brave was he, but he was gone...
gone to an early grave.
Grave mistake is what I made ~
made me numb when I married him.
Him? Why him? It was not love.
Love was what I felt for Jim.
Jim lay dead in a faraway land ~
Land of Hope and Glory.
Glory be! What’ll happen to me now?
Now I’m forgetting my story.
Story-time at the old folks’ home.
Home… not my home. I want to go.
Go away! I’ve a plane to catch.
Catch me if you can. Did you know…
know me when I was young?
Young and in love… was it December?
December bride, far from Jim’s side,
side-by-side with… ? Now I don’t remember.
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Author Notes
Author's Note:
Loop poems are hard to write. To me, they often sound like a repetitive jumble, so I thought I'd embrace that observation by writing this in the voice of a confused, repetitive old lady with jumbled memories.
I heard the situation described in this poem when I was visiting an older friend in an old folks' home several years ago. The memory of one of the residents had deteriorated to the extent that it'd wound back to vivid memories of her first love. Her lengthy marriage was a mystery to her -- she no longer recognized her husband of 65-years' duration.
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