IDENTITY  


14 IDENTITY 

This flesh, these bones, 
are scaffolding
in which I am contained. 
And yet not always, 
for a moment back, 
escaping, I was young again, 
and felt my baby son upon my lap.
It seemed so real, that happily
I laughed out loud. 

Then, hearing myself,
stopped; shattered, shocked.
There was no baby on my knee,
Instead a stranger's face,grown old,
stared at me from my mirror.

Who was she? 
Frightened, I told myself
I must get back 
to the familiar scaffold,
struggle to remember. 
Identify this staring face.
It seemed important. 
Was I right?

For though the flash 
of self-forgetfulness
made me afraid, 
I felt intense excitement too.
The eyes that held mine 
in the glass
had knowledge beyond waking hours.

In this eternal instant 
without form or name
I was quite free ... complete.
When personal identity returns,
sadly I sense that 
something has been lost.



   




J MILTON © 2022
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