Sunday, May 28, 2006

28th May

It's my cousin's birthday today. I'm pleased to say she's still alive (my posts seem to have been a bit deathly recently) but we don't see each other much. We practically lived together as children but then something happened. Not to do with me but I was caught in the result.

We met up again a few years ago for the first time for about twenty years. She hadn't changed: she could still talk for Britain. But what she said puzzled me. I'm afraid my response is another poem, but don't worry, this will be the last for a long time (unless I inflict Dearest Mrs B on you). I wrote this after our meeting and include it here today as a birthday - tribute? no, comment.

For those who know about these things, this is a sonnet. Impressed?

To my cousin
When last we met, my hair was truer brown,
my face was less lined, my dreams still vivid.
We parted as girls; we meet as women.
Twenty years lost in time. We talk about
the past. Do you remember? I recall…
But our memories run on different tracks,
sometimes merging, but more often estranged.
To see it your way with your eyes, to hear
your voice speaking of alienation
is to look afresh at things familiar.
Your truth is unfamiliar to me.
I want to say that it wasn’t like that.
But your wounds are too recently healed
so I hug you and say nothing.

1 comment:

Emmy Ellis said...

Lovely poem!

:o)