When he asked about my childhood
I knew not where to start.
The scents began to flood my head
while strangling my heart.
My mind has instant recall
on those certain horrid scents.
Like overflowing ashtrays
in a car with blowing vents.
The smell of all night parties
mixed with the scent of a strangers love.
The sour stench of sweat and tears
it's hard to rise above.
The pungent smell of beer breath
in a young girls sleeping face.
The memories of childhood
are not so easily erased.
Some things are burnt in memory
no matter how we fight.
He quietly put a scented candle
on the table in plain sight
This poem left me feeling quiet; made me reflect on my own leaving and what I will leave behind. I've spent years trying to heal from the indignity of my father's violent verbal blasts-at me. I used to yell at myself to let go-now-well just an occasional whisper. Peace to you Mary. You're a friend to us all. Ray (fabulous poem too!)
Hi Mary, This poem is fabulous! Clear discription, and flows well. My favorite of your work so far. Thanks for sharing! :)
It's impossible to erase the past, I know. However those 'sour stenches' make you who you are today. Yesterday's pain makes for today's great poetry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A tight and touching piece Mary. Very well brought off. Thank you.