When I started writing, I had no computer, iPad
Or any other devise. I actually started writing notes on
My iPhone, in cafes, even bars, (very unusual since
I did not frequent them) but anyplace that had WiFi.
And then I found the library to be my refuge.
I knew nothing about the computer and struggled,
Going home in tears, but always returning,
Determined to learn what I needed to
Tell my story. But for a very kind and caring
Nephew stepping in and running the technical part
Of this, my writings would not exist to others.
It was a long process, and challenging, since
I was writing things that were emotionally
Disturbing. Long ago a very strong disciplinarian
Set up residence in my head, and a battle raged
Every day. The child in me feared this person
And hid behind words and numbers I developed
As a tool (a component of OCD). I counted
Everything I saw and words ran through my
Brain, a serious mental disorder.
As I look back, I know God was in control, since I
Was out of control. Little did I know that the letters
And numbers I hid behind would one day be words
Of poetry seeking my mind!
~~~
This is a strange vault for a library,
Consciousness holding and
Unfolding histories and mysteries…
~~~
The librarian is dressed in black
Her hair sleeked back, spectacles
Enlarge her eyes
A ruler is used to prove her
Authority, she is very stern and
And makes sure these books of
Memories are learned, on
Shelves in a sea of words
Where thoughts are stirred
~~~
The child is little, she is small
Latched to a tall ladder day and
Night with no relief in sight
Too young to know what matters
Just following the instruction, with
pages worn
From many fingers leafing through
stories told
~~~
She can barely reach the lowest
Shelf recording the story of herself
The twelfth shelf she must reach
In time
Growing a little older with an
Inquisitive eye, another rung is
Added, another shelf is saddened
There is succession of speed as
Wheels turn across the
Floor, the ladder reaching to the top
Before it stops
~~~
The child flees in terror to the
Basement of this keeper of life
Events and is lulled to sleep
Consciousness turned to
Unconsciousness, it is
Apparent the child is no longer
Transparent!
This poem is included in the book
‘Unshaken’
Donna's Poetry Blog 