They tell me that I should let go of my past
As though it’s a heavy backpack I can doff;
A ball and chain I can with ease off-cast
Long locks that a barber can blithely buzz off.
It says rather much that this helpful advice
Keeps appearing in magazines, cartoons and books.
If it was so simple, you’d be charged quarter-price
And no one would give’t more than cursory looks.
But the past is much less like a bag than a burn
Whose scars bind as much as disfigure. Blood-rich
Tangled netting of pelt, vein and muscle that spurn
The most dexterously exercised scalpel and stitch.
So, out with your articles, videos, courses
That urge me to drop what was long ago grafted
In flesh. Like a tattoo whose long needle forces
In ink. I’m imperfect — nay, call me hand-crafted.
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Some powerful images, Jean.
Lots of truth in this short, evocative poem that I certainly identify with.