I stare at the photograph
of a bare-chested 18-year-old
trying to look brutish,
crouching as if
ready to pounce,
projecting his masculinity
lest the image fade.
Our cells are no longer the same,
but he still lives inside me,
staring out from
his secret chamber,
where in one corner
is a small table
where he prays
and gazes upward
at Jesus in agony—
a votive candle flickers.
What would we say
to each other now,
sixty years later?
Would he scoff at
the weak, wrinkled creature
staring back at him
or ask me to
join him in prayer?
And if I refused,
would he try to
wrestle me into belief?
Would he see only
the frayed edge
of the fabric,
never to feel
the rich texture
in between?
First published in Hawaii Pacific Review https://hawaiipacificreview.org/2023/10/02/remnants/
Love this piece – thanks for sharing and inspiring me to go look for a photo of my 18-year old self. Would love to see your pic too!
Thanks, Kathy. Alas, I can’t seem to find it.
I’ve often thought too of meeting my 18-year-old self to find out what his reaction would be to meet me after 60 years, but also to convey to him how much I’ve learned over the years and would attempt to convey some of that knowledge and wisdom to him. He wouldn’t be interested, however, and would want to talk only about his own interests.
Thanks for sharing, Hank. Yes, I doubt if our young selves would be able to see much beyond their own ends of the fabric.
A wonderfully crafted poem. Love the introspection. Got me thinking again about my 18-year-old self. After high school graduation, I traveled to Hawaii for sun and fun, came back with a super tan ready to take on the world. I still have the photo of a bearded, svelte and very tan me standing next to my very pale parents and siblings. I suspect your poem will spawn more poems about our 18-year-old selves and how we’ve changed, hopefully for the better.
So, might there be a companion poem, i.e., those things in our lives that have never changed or at least very little. For me, I think there is a certain level of conservatism (not in a religious sense) and lone ranger personality that is baked in.
Anyway, thanks for sharing this thought provoking poem; maybe part of a poemoir some day?
Thanks for your wonderfully thoughtful comment, Steve. Our past lives are such a rich source for inspiration, and I would love to see one on that Lone Ranger side of you.
Cheers,
Thank you, Gene. So much to think about here. I like esp. “still lives inside me”. Aren’t you proud though that you were such a good looking youth. That alone put a lot of gas in the tank!
Thanks for your thoughtful comment, Marilyn, though not sure proud is the right word – more like scary and disturbing.
Cheers,