Me in the Old Album, Part 3: The Change
I flip the page onto that which contains
the picture of a little me, cute, lovable,
playful and if observable in a picture, funny.
I cannot help but grimace, a tale of days past
populates my mind amidst my current scare,
a present nervous state of the mind and a
feeling of resentment towards more than one
of those I once considered my cronies.
So what has changed?
I have had to explain every single one
of those jokes I was born with,
sometimes it goes wrong and am in trouble;
paying the price of misunderstanding to a world
too gloomy and sad to process fun has been
the daily norm. Or perhaps those I was designed for
have not been around any more. And I have ricocheted
into my own cocoon, a comfort zone, a darkness of quiet
but for the sound of a scribbling pen.
From the pictures of a vibrant, dynamic dreamer
to the mirror images of a scared thoughtful femur,
I have known not where to be, what time to be,
and who to be with! Whatever I have trusted
with the childish faith I was taught to have,
has baffled and scared me out of my own skin;
they have all attempted to draw a sketch of a beast
out of a humility that I see in these pictures,
scaring a good childhood away from its owner,
in the end, imprisoning me to my own corner.
Nostalgia preserved by the Old Album
invokes a tear or two, a visible revolution
towards the expectations of a modern materialistic
world, requiring too much more from me than I am
naturally adapted to offer. Seeing in me what
can never be in me. Hearing from me what
I can never say. Yet ignoring the songs I sing
and believe in. Refusing to dance to the rhythms
produced by the dreams I dream. Belittling the
little guy. And I see no audience out there!
So I grew big. But I still talk. The truth.
A rat in the kitchen isn’t more confused
than what has become of me with age.
So I talk confused truth; I get into more
trouble, and the cycle is endless. But these
pictures reveal the corner stone with which
I was designed. Deep inside I am still the playful
baby, the funny kid if not the cute and lovable one,
and I still sleep like a baby, and dream dreams
even when the world is not dancing to my rhythms.
©J.Kisiah 28/05/10
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