I’m sure we all have had one: that period of uncertainty that accompanies our earliest memories. Mine was filled with a lot of doubt, as the following sonnet attests.
Listening in the dark for thunderclaps
Incites my mind to return to the past,
Grown dim by my memory: a time lapse
Hiding something startling — I am aghast!
Thoughts of childhood spring up like ghosts to haunt;
Nervous shudders flow up and shock my spine;
Involuntary flashes tease and taunt;
No, please, these fears can no longer be mine!
Gone were those days of panic and self-doubt,
Forever banished by the Adult “I”:
Listen, kid, you’ve got to cut this crud out
And realize the chance to risk, to try;
Silence, split by a glimpse of your spirit,
Heralds your soul’s clap of thunder — hear it!
If seen from a very different point of view, one’s soul could be applauding how far one has come in life. But if we allow the child’s point of view to prevail, this can be a very scary thing. But not every memory is frightening.
Remember Christmas Days
Remember Christmas Days when we were young,
When Jack Pine’s boughs hung heavy, bright with lights,
While children braved the clear, yet frosty, nights
And meaning gave to each glad carol sung.
Inside the home, a warmth filled ev’ry lung,
As dreams of presents, cuddly, soft or bright,
Crept into youngsters’ minds, who’d, with delight,
Discover treasures once that day’s begun.
But now the time goes by, too fast for cheer,
While nearer to the season’s close we draw,
And soon the festive shopping will be done,
When, hopefully, the only sounds we’ll hear
Will be our children’s Christmas Day “hurrah’,
As all the World again becomes as one.