My newest adventure is underway. It has lead me to take up residency in a new blog,
Like the Feathers of an Arrow (affectionately known as LFA).

...don't open...don't throw away... is not disappearing completely (not yet),
but postings here will be limited.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

8 Flashes of Memories

she hears the footsteps behind her
a memory flashes across closed eyelids
for the briefest of seconds she's transported
time slips away and her chest tightens
an eruption of thoughts and emotions
paralyze an already battered, beaten and aged body
eyes flicker open closing out the memories
wrinkled spotted hands clenched together
atop well abused unusable legs

she looks at the hall ahead of her
a desire to find an alternate root sets in
for too many times has she seen the faces
whose eyes reflect the same hollow sadness as her own
in person they are strong fierce individuals
but here along these halls their souls have been captured
a lens--like a microscope--sees deep within
shouting the stories they long wish to bury

she feels the presence of attendant behind her
a moment of relief sets in at the comfort of companionship
the chair begins to move down the hall
she averts her eyes from the photo laden doors
eyes become entranced on the beautiful day outside
a walk in the fresh air speaks to her soul
the flash of scenery beyond the window twists transporting her
back to that fateful day were she innocently except a ride
her village quickly flash before the car window
replaced by unfamiliar foliage
leading to a world she was far too young to experience
aged wrinkled eyes turn away from the windows--from the memories

she looks straight ahead of her
a fruitless attempt to escape
for every corner, new and old,
triggers images, thoughts, and memories
her tenuous mind longs to forget
her weak fragile body longs to erase
her tortured soul longs for recognition--
a simple acknowledgement and apology--
so when her time comes she may finally rest
in peace

"Dal Seon halmeoni"
Photo by Greg Laychak
it seems such a simple could be anyone whose time on this earth as been long and well spent...but it's not.  knowing just a fragment, a speck of dust really, of who this picture represents made me think what her hall of memories would hold for her...but truthfully i cannot even begin to fathom her life's ordeal.

the image was offered up by One Stop Poetry's One Shoot Sunday [interview with Greg Laychak].  Greg's "prominent work, 'Fading Voices' – a photo documentary project about victims/survivors of sexual slavery from WWII."


  1. An intense lament with many great descriptions woven throughout the narrative.

  2. excellent piece. It needs reading more than once and then I don't feel I have grasped it all, the sure sign of a good poem.

  3. Indeed, I read it over again....intense response.
    ♥ ஆεlεɳa

  4. your descriptions and intensity you bring to this piece....i would so be looking for an escape as well

  5. Long halls of evil memories lie still haunting the soul.

  6. you explanation of the photo says as much as the poem...I almost did not do this one...because the subject is one would like to ignore..for others as a future self...a good long life should have a softer more glorious ending....I have an old dog...whose days are coming to an end..even that is hard to accept ..though natural it all is...bkm