there are cycles to life

bang on- there was the cliche.

look past the jaded ole surface. cycles and cycles within cycles. nested loops. A leads to B and C leads you right back to A. its all to do with coming full circle anyway.

sometimes i wonder if i was born with deja vu. or is it just the realisation that things have an inner movement- and will come right back gyral like to haunt you?

being accosted by whats past is ghostly, innit?

how much of your past can you hide-efface-forget then?

the lost time (and money) you invested on ships-that-pass-in-the-night relationships/flings/whatever...

the lost nights when you got home too drunk or stoned to remember who paid or who dropped you back or who sat on your lap? all your life you wonder whether eating chocolate out of someones mouth was an x rated dream or omifuckingawd did it actually happen?

pretend you werent awake when ma and pa went at it hammer and tongs and broke every glass bottle in the house?

pretend you didnt slice yourself open every first of january just to see the blood flow...denumb yourself...pretend you were alive and a real feeling human for once?

wish you could take back the several times you called god- or something like him an uncaring puppetmaster- and worse

wish you never had a crisis of faith

wish you could just fuckin believe!!! in something?

believe in forever?

believe that you'd be loved to madness---for what you were inside and not for your tits and arse?

or courted by people who wanted to pinch your notes?

past's well...past. and it all comes around. but it doesnt necessarily have to have to power to hurt you.

it wasnt all bad.

if you could raise the past..what would it be like

to relive falling in love all over again?

feel the first kiss of the first raindrop of my first year?

the first breath of spring air...the first step?

the wonder of learning to read- to sing- to write?

writing the first poem...the first jointed paragraph...learing to write in a 'joined hand'?

the wonder of smelling my first rose

eating my first chocolate

the first bubble bath

cooking my first meal

learning how to change my first nappy...the first time naman puked on my shoulder...the first time my baby sister was put in front of me...

worshipping my baby brother from afar

loving my parents so intensely that i thought i ould burst?

hating them intensely as well at times- sadly.

baking my first rabbit cookies...and marble cakes

that first date by the seaface

first illnesses. flushed face while i puked discreetly and he just held me as i shivered later.

initial thrill...and fear while applying for the MA

getting my first- and only- gold at college

wearing a sari- trying not to trip over my high heels---being hugged by the princiapl

gunjan..my first friend..the one that got away..and i never knew where.

we dont always have to look back in anger. the pictured of edwardian summer garden parties might have been posed for and rehearsed..and damn right, jim- it must have rained sometimes. but didnt the photographer capture a portion of ephemera...in that instant when there was just a hint of rain, and old auntie meg's wig blew away and landed on top of the cream cakes?

yes. life comes full circle.

dulci et amo...