Childhood Memories

Once upon a time a little room
A little me, a world, and you
Dimmed the lights, tucked me in
And told me how it all began:

Once upon a time in chapter one
A kingdom, castle, moon, and sun
Two gates, a horse, a shining dress
A book, a bed, and one princess

If I were her (if she were me)
My crown could rest in royalty
By pen or page or paper hand
Sleep-eyed fairest of the land

Other times there was a knight
Sword and armor, metal, light
Humble born, of dirt and field
Of barn and stable, sturdy shield

And finally, a fairy flew
On shimmerwind and magic dew
A blessing cast this place for two
A little me, a world, and you

Once upon a time long ago
Ears bejeweled by words of gold
A fairytale, a girl, her dad
This is how it all began:

What is that? I need to know!
And how such an inviting glow?
I’ll test it out! Two hands, headfirst-
…sometimes it doesn’t work

Still, I know I need to see it!
What’s the meaning? What’s the reason?
I’ll try again, I’ll redesign.
Next time it’ll be just fine…

Again, both hands, in time
one two three four five
white black black white white

Motion, patterns, stagnant sun
five four three two one
Again,

A flash of color now and then
one two white three blue four five
Kaleidoscopic, heavy eyes
five gold four three rose red two
Again,

one two three upon a time
Monochrome-metronome lullaby
Repetitions, stories, visions:
If I were her (if she were me)
I’d ballroom dance across the keys
Across the bridge and emerald hills
Through every color in the kingdom
five four three white two black one
Again,

seasons are written in the drums
a rhythm beaten in constant motion
metered and spry we dazzle tonight
with fire
as we did before

i sneak my pocket with sticky sweets
and eager shoes full of dance
running in the passage of a spinning pulse
next year cradled in my hands

there are Blessings too strong to outgrow,
lingering love for unadorned ears.
the same Enchantment my mother learned from her mother
who learned it long ago from mothers before

there’s heritage in my doubt,
a Spell on my skin
that only this fairy could cast;
it shimmers like freckles.

if i were her (if she were me)
Light would never burn its beam
because i know Blessings too bright for young eyes,
too loud to hear.

from time to time that fairy chants
her bejeweled language, blistering Gold.
my face darkens to guard its tongue;
i don’t talk back.
instead, i bottle my colors in magic dew
and release them into mist…

the knight was still standing.
battle-ready, he had built himself
piece by piece
from the armory long before my time.

he had built himself from roads and bridges,
fields to barns to barracks,
all the daggers along the way
and he was battle-ready.

still, the knight was standing.
he fashioned himself from scraps of fabric,
sewed his habit with thimbles and shears,
needles in his clothes
when he was called to arms.

and as each battle came,
drawn by the sword
he was unsheathed to a deep place,
weighed low down by his daggers
his shears, his needles.

so when the knight arrived at the castle, still standing
the armory was a Blessing.
heavy, he carried himself
to that room of infant possibility
and chose the sword,
the dagger, the shears and needles
for a princess needing a shield

to teach her of sharpness
until she was battle-ready.

i used to think the continents were stitched together
masses connected in zig-zag with a careful coat of glue 
invisible threads running between them like currents in an ocean of ink

i used to play on paper shores
making castles out of pulp
strands of syntax in my hair 
i could catch a word and hold it all day
before speaking it to the sea

this was how I learned

next i thought continents were held in position 
by force
maybe the decree of a king
some high doctrine encouraging cities to rise 
and the magic keeping them upright 

though the sea was inky adventurers like me 
dared shore to shore 
pulp to pulp 
for that magic
i traveled kingdoms with my eyes closed 
i kept them between my ears

this was how I learned

once upon a time i discovered tectonic plates
from a class or a book or a friend
i don’t remember
but that was the beginning 

soon I was headfirst 
two hands deep trading color for clarity
levitation for cross braces and
elves for janitors
i traded like a stock broker and
the world became duller but still 
i learned of sharpness

i learned that you can buy a knight costume
and brandish a sword all the same 
you can overdose on fairy dust
or rearrange the words of a blessing to a curse 

all this i learned

but i never left the paper shores
though i traveled years to years 
chapter by chapter i never unlearned the magic city
structures, schematics 
still held some enchantment   
in meaning if nothing else 

i learned to be

i learned
I am her (she is Me) 
though not in glamor we all are
wrapped in fantasies 
cut from stories
bleeding through each other’s pages

from a little room in a gray city
i sit with you 
and look forward 
color cradled in my hands

Like Robert Schumann’s Kinderszenen, Childhood Memories is a collection of short character pieces that recreate different snapshots from my childhood. Each movement is self-contained.  Yet there are recurring themes in both the music and the poems that thread through the entire work, making of it a coherent story about the joy and pain of growing up.