When a repressed memory decides to surface…

This is a short poem and may not mean much to some, but these four lines are about a time when I felt so vulnerable and empty. I wrote this when a memory surfaced, one that I had managed to block out entirely for many years. It wasn’t until I began writing a creative piece for university about a similar subject, that this repressed memory decided to make itself known, and expected me to be crushed under its weight.

And it worked.

I just happened upon the poem today. It was written in a notebook that I evidently had barely touched, and now I know why.

Sometimes I wish I could go back to forgetting. Though, sometimes I wonder if it is in fact best remembering, so I can learn from it, and try to heal myself… somehow.

Looking at my poem now, my demeanour has changed instantly to one of sadness, embarrassment, and self-loathing. Four lines, and my day is ruined.


Echoes stirring
Threatening to surge
An unwanted touch
An unwanted word

© 2014

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