I can’t look directly at my back, it’s impossible. I know it’s there, I can touch it, it’s doing its job of creating stand tall and bend. It can sometimes ache. I need to use a mirror, no two; using one to reflect a reflection of my back, therefore it’s something I rarely do. The same could be said about the past, with a few opposites. I can’t look directly at my past, it’s impossible. I know it’s there, I can’t touch it, it did its job of helping me stand tall and also bend. It can sometimes ache. I need to use my memories to see a reflection of my past, and my mind to reflect on it, therefore it’s something I can do often; not to retrieve the wonderful, but the hurtful, not the happy, but the sad. It can’t be changed, so why can’t I let it just sit there and not bother me? Why replay the hurtful, the sad? It matters? If so, for what purpose? It’s part of me? Yes, but already included. The past, accumulated each minute without my permission, impactful forever? Not if I require it to need my permission. Sorry, not granted! (to be continued)
A Widow's Walk 