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| Persistence of Memory |
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| Poetry Cycles - Poems of Transition | |||
| Lisa Jain Thompson | |||
| Thursday, 04 January 2007 15:16 | |||
 The Persistence of Memory
I remember being young,
Perhaps eleven, maybe twelve,
And wanting to tell my parents
I was really a girl.
Not that I wanted to be a girl,
But that I was one,
Knowing they would never understand.
Catholic, Italian, my father Presbyterian,
There was no chance they would listen.
Even my pediatrician was a good catholic boy,
His children went to the same schools as I did.
It's hard to remember how insolated I was,
But still I knew, even if didn't know
Of anything to do or others like me.
I wanted to scream
"I'm a girl, Mom, help me. Please."
Instead I hid my tears in my pillow,
Fearful of .... Just fearful
Of what would happen if people knew
How terribly strange I was.
The memory persists,
My parents have died,
And I'll never know the answer
To whether they would have loved me.
L. J. Thompson Copyright 2000
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| Last Updated on Thursday, 04 January 2007 15:36 |
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