Am I myself? I am not myself,
Belonging to the night, addiction
And transcendence.
I used to remember a child
Full of energy, excitement and promise.
But I lost him in the crowd of years,
Abducted by adults without purpose.
Now I have my own child
And I try to teach her and fail
Because my way is dark,
Littered with the debris of trauma.
As she blooms, the days grow longer
And I get weaker, not stronger.
Is it a trick of time and distance
That flicks the switch
Of selective remembering?
Why do I present myself to her
As I am not now?
Why do my rose-coloured glasses
Never fog as I step from
Airconditioned sterility
Into the tropical heat of reality?
Why is my best self always behind me?
In constantly dismembering the past,
I create my own monster
In the looking glass
Who is thinner, kinder, more talented.
This is the lie I present to my offspring,
Like the Tooth Fairy or Father Christmas.
It’s what my teachers taught me.
It’s what my father would have wanted.
©shaun patrick green 2022
