only I know the secrets they possess,
like the young girl kneeling in prayer reflects
an image of me time had to unearth.
I wonder what beauty they'll see herein.
If I never tell them, they'll never guess
why the virgin Mary rests on my chest;
only I know the secrets they possess.
Little pieces of me I've not confessed,
like the young girl painting toe nails reflects
confidence and moxie (all while undressed),
an image of me time could not unearth.
And what of the cross worn beside my breast;
will they understand how much it is worth?
I'm unsure they'll see the beauty herein
for if I do not tell, they'll never guess
how the young woman shedding tears reflects
my feelings behind how much I am worth.
There are tiny treasures hidden within.
Inspiration for this piece: Over at dVerse Poets Pub, the Poetics prompt is about Looking for Treasures. It is amazing all the things that come to mind that hold meaning and memories. I'd be able to settle on something to write to. After reading several different responses from the amazing talents that had already begun to link up yesterday, I got to thinking. What happens to all those treasures in the end? Will someone else find meaning them? Will they know the meaning that they held? Will they take on a new meaning? So many questions running through my head that it lead to the piece above. Hidden within this piece are five different treasures I have held on to over the years. Some from the day I was born others from college and then adulthood. Below is an image of each with, I'm sure you'll be able to locate each within their given stanza.
An aside: Even as I wrote the first line, I felt the double meaning it held. There is definitely a lot more hidden in this poem than meets the eye.
A note on form: I'll be sharing more on that probably tomorrow or Friday. I'm certain you are sitting on the edge of your seat in anticipation.
A bit on editing and while driving: Okay, so I originally wrote this last night when I could not fall asleep; stayed up quite late...initially saying I'd stop after the first stanza and laying out the repetition, but that did not happen. As for when I typed it up, well let's just say that today was a very rough day emotionally and so still the error eluded me. It was not until my drive home (where I typically do my best thinking) that I realized it wasn't Mary Magdalene; the pendent was of the Immaculate Conception and thus of the Virgin Mary. Lucky me the syllable count matched and thus the change for any who may have read the original. It also dawned on me as I drove home, which is either a reflection on my state of mind since last night or true to the fact that I do my best thinking while driving, this piece has a very prevelent (unitentional) religious association. I wonder if that is my subconscience's way of telling me something. hmm...
|This young girl use to hang above my bed whan I was a little girl.|
She still resides close to me during the evenings slumber.
|She was a fixture in the upstairs hall bathroom as I grew up.|
I stole her when I got my own place and she now hangs in my bathroom.
|I got her when I went away to college.|
She still hangs on my wall.
|I've had the cross since my Christening.|
The pendant of the Immaculate Conception was found
among my grandfather's things; I don't know what it meant to him
for I had never met him, but it is something of him that I can hold on to.