It’s been a long slow swing
in retrograde through the garden
of my soul’s imaginary dysmorphia
There is a callous comfort
in my latent childhood dreams
which lull me through recurrence
Each is neatly parcelled
to tuck away the vicious claws
and hairy eyes of my familiar demons
A path of no return is visible
but I suspect it will lead back
to the root of the poisonous tree
and the pendulum motion
of the swinger because the truth,
the snake in the garden was always me.
A poem suggested, in part, by Margaret's final challenge in the Imaginary Garden: Artistic Interpretations, in which she asks us to contemplate the theme of comfort in the context of childhood.
~~ no snake in the Garden, you. No distortion whatsoever.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Helen... I have learnt to take the good with the bad..
Delete“the truth,
ReplyDeletethe snake in the garden was always me“
Wow. That ending is incredible.
Thank you!
DeleteAs I was writing the poem, which is really a scrutiny of the subconscious mind, that seemed to be the natural conclusion. Perhaps this was a mini therapy session with myself, as manufacturer of my own dreams.
Ah, really. Quite an insight! Love.
ReplyDeleteI love the imaginary garden threading through this poem.
ReplyDeleteI am so happy you noticed my allusion to the Imaginary Garden! This poem is not about our website, but the imagination itself, which can breed angels and demons, self-love and self doubt, terrors and solutions.
DeleteI think many of us can always look back on our childhood and admit that we not the best of children. This is of course part of growing up and realizing later we had run amok or at least not behaved as well as we should...hopefully not taking those faults into adulthood!
ReplyDeleteI totally agree.
DeleteSurprised At the ending. Can’t see you as a snake—certainly not in our garden.
ReplyDeleteBut Kelly, they weren't all Demons although I contributed over my share. You were always nice but the teacher in you probably shuddered often of me.
ReplyDelete..