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THE OUSTING OF THE UNNEEDED
Folder:
JOURNAL #9 clippings of old times
some once happy
lay all about me on the slab stone floor
exercising their place drawn from my past
and their memories do not seem to haunt me
anymore
my trembling fingers now trace their each individual
shape
like that of a child first discovering its incredible
sense of touch
a Cupie doll key chain I slowly pick up
once so treasured yet now in my left hand
it only out of simple curiosity do I clutch
so then, how is it that time is able to paint one's
past pain as now quite lifeless and almost pale
and all disguised eyes look farther away when from the crib
there comes no immediate wail
so little is soon passed the obvious state of then
current affairs
only now do I suspect that I did and still do not fit so well anymore
into such outdated airs
so, I try on a new coat, one that has not been warn so
well by myself before
we'll label it bravery for now
without all the hero trimmings and media like hoopla
thrown over subjects that are no longer so very sore
ah, alas I find after all that the fit is quite good
and not just through the vicinity of the shoulders but throughout my
entire self as I hoped one day it would
why, it's easier than I originally thought it would be
this gradualness to becoming older...............
( written April 2, 1993)
