Who Am I

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Who Am I

~

I am my memories
that huddle ’round me
soft and gentle
some dim
some vivid
through all my days
and all my nights

though you are gone
left much too soon
just in your springtime
you are here
quiet in my memories

I like
that you are still with me
in my heart
this recall is such sweet ache

other memories
from quite near
and far into the past
drift forward
mingled rich
through the years

their embrace
is soothing
warm as the sun

memories of others
I’ve been blessed to love
a tender tear
for every one

the places
this 6’ frame has been
the wonders
these hazel eyes have seen

the joys
that painted me
so brightly

the sorrows
that taught me
the depth of life

in these memories
there is a sweetness
it holds my heart
tempered
by just a touch
of soft regret
that at times
bowed this silvered head

my heart is full
my spirit calm
a peaceful surrender
to fate’s embrace

that precious
unfurled strand
from there to here
from then to now

would that these memories
never end

but soon
the flames of recall
will falter
as the lingering embers die

it’s then I’m prayer

when I am called
among the memories
would that I be
carried away
in stillness
delivered off
in sleep
forever wrapped
in all it is
I am

I am my memories

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~ ~ ~

rob kistner © 2020

 

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  • 36 thoughts on “Who Am I”

    1. I do not mean to sound morbid, Rob, but this should be read at your funeral. It speaks so eloquently of a life well-lived, its joys and sorrows, and a contentment in completion. It’s a beautiful, beautiful poem.

    2. Memories mingled rich through the years… What a great image as we find ourselves in the winter of our life. You have written a wonderful heartfelt poem. We come into this world with no memory and leave wrapped in all the memories of life. Well done Rob. Love the photos also!

      1. Thank you Dwight. 🙂 We are at a similar stage in our lives, though I pray you are healthier than I am. Your compliment is meaningful to me. Drifting through my memories is like wandering a treasure trove — priceless!

    3. Exquisite work … Aging has certainly made me aware of how memories sustain us. My mother lost hers, I don’t want to lose mine.

      1. Thank you Helen. Part of my underlying motivation for writing this piece is my current struggle with memory. I am an insulin-dependent, unstable diabetic — now for 25 years. I also have arterial sclerosis and suffering heart failure. I am so profoundly concerned. I do not want to lose my memories. So sorry about your mother.

    4. This poem brought a tear to my eye. It’s a really moving and emotional journey. These lines especially got to me:
      the sorrows
      that taught me
      the depth of life
      Made me think of Wordsworth ‘thoughts that do often lie to deep for tears.’ I love that your heart is full and your spirit calm: surely these are the hallmarks of a life well-lived.

    5. I love the circularity of your self-portrait poem, Rob, and the thought of memories huddled around you, a comforting hug. It’s so bitter-sweet and deeply touching. I also like the way you only hint at your physicality in the ‘6’ frame’, ‘hazel eyes’ and ‘silvered head’, focusing on heart, mind and spirit.

      1. You are most welcome Lillian! I am pleased this piece touched you… 🙂 I always struggle with cold, hard, brutal aspects of life. It is always a battle, and I fight it tenaciously, mostly winning. And the tragedies always drive me to my knees, but I always stood back up. But my personal joy comes from the evidence of the creative human spirit — music, art, poetry, literature, genuine sport — it is herein these that I find my peace and fulfillment. It is herein I shun, and take shelter from the ugly. Though I understand the balancing necessity of life’e Yin & Yang — I choose to embrace the creative.

      1. Even though my son’s tragic death was unbearable at the time Sara, when i was finally able to begin thinking, without utter despair about him… without mourning, crying and being so deeply angry — the memories, after a year or so, moved through sorrowful, to bittersweet, to now my being soothed and so uplifted by beautiful, meaningful memories of “only“ him, not the devastating circumstance of his horrible death. Now I find great solace, even joy, in reflecting on my beautiful, gentle, talented (excellent singer, like I was at his age) — my fiercely handsome 18-year-old boy, my first son, my Aaron. Far too brief though his life was, I can’t imagine not having those memories of him, without having his wonderful life to celebrate, in my heart, and in my mind — in my soul.

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