◄
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
www PoetryNext com