A scattering, a smattering:
Thoughts flying hither and yon.
Was it ever thus and always
In the sanctity of my dream lobe?
The only place within me
I could ever run to anytime
Safe. Warm. From tiny child
To elder child still exploring
All that surrounds me
And bring it inside me
To examine in wonder, in awe
Then take what I needed
To shore me up on days
That are bleak and sad
And thick with the ghosts
Of booby-trapped memories.
Yes, booby-trapped memories, I know those. I had those this weekend. They are very damaging. It takes professional help to survive those.
ReplyDelete'Thoughts flying hither and yon' I know them so well! Sometimes I wish I had a large butterfly net to catch and sort them.
ReplyDeleteI think my mind has cleverly hidden away the booby-trapped memories so they can't ensnare me. But there are still plenty of booby-trapped present-day situations to watch out for.
ReplyDeleteI sent a comment but it got lost somehow. I don't have many bad memories but wonder if they are buried in there somewhere.
ReplyDeleteman, I wish my own dream-scape offered respite from days plagued with ghosts of booby-trapped memories!
ReplyDeleteYour words fit well in poetic form.
Funny, I thought I was the only person who had those booby-traps, memories that make me give little audible whimpers.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is just beautiful WWW!
ReplyDeleteThose 2 last lines cause goose-bumps.