Wednesday, May 31, 2006



Today, with nothing else to do
I thought to dig through the trash heap of a wasted life.
I scraped aside memories;
scraps of torn and faded photographs,
forgotten promises,
mistakes, disappointments,
wrong turns, and disillusion.

Epiphany, they say, is understanding,
so when I found, in the trash,
still living, breathing pieces of myself,
it was an epiphany of sorts.

Carefully, I scraped the scraps together
and fitted them like a puzzle
until I met with me again,
the way I was—the who I was.

Can I keep them, those precious pieces?
Can I go home again,
be who I was again?
Can I do now
the things I pushed aside then
because I was too busy pleasing others,
living their lives instead of mine?
Will the she I was take my hand
and lead me once again into her world,
give me that second chance
to feel the sunshine upon my face,
the wind in my hair
and the exercise my legs require, or

have the years piled up so fast
that the she that was is but a memory
to fade in time as the pieces flutter once again
onto the trash heap of my life?

Vi Jones
©May 31, 2006


At 1:51 AM, Blogger Imogen Crest said...

This was satisfying reading. It shows the pattern of needing to go and back and forth, like the sea. Perhaps the epiphany comes from this, the understanding. I often wonder why women were conditioned to give too much away? Why is this so widely accepted? It's understanding of these things and these questions I always have, that helps. Every moment matters, every day matters, going with the backwards and forwards pattern, I think. I think it all matters, Vi, every bit.

At 8:14 AM, Blogger Vi Jones said...

Indeed it does matter. Like I commented elsewhere, our lives are like a book and it is revealing to go back and read about who we were and how we got to be who we are now.



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