“Whispers from the Past”

Poem of the Day, Monday, November 11, 2024

Photo credit to YouTube

 “Whispers from the Past”

Deep in my memory, whispers
from the past, ooze to the surface,
some haunting, most positive,
all prodding me forward
as if my past pushes me out
of the doldrums into the present
and triggers a sense of euphoria,
and I relish the thought
of being propelled from the past
into the present and even into the future.

I see my 1st grade self borrowing
a green crayon from Jon P.
or my 4th grade self doing times tables
so fast, competing with Denece M,
the only one faster than I was
or trying to hold back the tears
in the public haunt of my peers
while Mrs. Jeppsen lovingly read
Where the Red Fern Grows
or even my 6th grade self
playing the flutophone
as if I knew how to do it
or my 10th grade self in a cast
from a freak skiing accident
at Kelly’s Canyon (something to do
with snow snakes climbing out of the snow)
then me in a social dance class
where I don’t really want to be
but my future self glad to have been there.

The whisperings draw me back
to late evenings in the summers,
outside with flashlights
with my brothers, sometimes my sisters,
snagging entangled nightcrawlers
lazily lying stretched out,
in the freshly watered pasture
next to Mrs. Butterworth’s to sell
to fishermen passing through
because I wanted to buy a motorcycle.

Or picking raspberries with my mom
in the early summer mornings,
just the two of us, delicately
scattering berries into our buckets
strapped onto our belts,
sometimes talking,
sometimes just being quiet,
contemplating the moment,
while we popped fresh berries
into our mouths, not worrying
about what the consequences
of unwashed berries, just savoring
the deliciousness of the moment.

Whisperings offer tender glimpses
from the past, allow you
to soak in the good and the gentle,
hear your mother’s voice
one more time, just one more time,
as you work down each side
of the raspberry row, picking berries
and knowing she is on the other side.