A poem by Doreena Jennings

4

Childhood Reflection

 

Would I risk walking down the avenue

of childhood. Past the cherry blossoms, 

the laburnum fallen over when a storm blew

that drew strength to re-root and bloom again,

 

sit quietly on its woven branches,

curtaining myself behind golden chains,

rake new paths on the lawn from leaf piles,

before the gardener cleared what remained.

 

I would gladly trade all this privilege

to find safe hands clasped, above the mud

to give me a leg-up, to bridge the gap

to the first big branch of the redwood,

 

from where I could re-imagine this small

life re-shaped, re-cast entirely differently.

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