Inspired by “I Go Back to 1937”
I see myself in my brother’s nursery room,
Painted with white, wispy clouds,
and a softly radiating beam of sunlight
seeping through the transparent curtains
I see myself walk up to my brother confidently
Stepping over his toys,
The Googly eyed Pokemon
stomping over the pastel blue carpet, I
See my brother silently playing with his animals
Fingers fiddling with a stuffed wombat,
His tiny hands clumsily dropping Mr. Deer, his
soft, hazy eyes, absent minded and innocent.
I’m about to yell at him, curse at him.
I’m about to shatter his fantasies with a hammer. I’m about to
skin off the fuzzy, opaque illusions from his eyes,
I’m about to make his life dark and dim like a prison cell.
He’s only a kid, we are kids, I’m about to hit him
with the sharp face of reality, I’m about to hurt his friends
We are selfish, innocent, stupid.
I want to scream Nana’s not here – she’s thin air,
Mr. Deer’s not real, you are going to hurt mom’s
feelings, you are going to desperately call for Nana,
you are going to feel meaningless for the rest of your life,
But I don’t do it. I see him breathing,
his soft, round stomach fluttering, I see him moving,
his fingers quivering like a mouse.
He whispers Nana I miss you to the Wombat and hugs her tightly.
Written by Anonymous