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October 18, 2010

She was once an eleven-year-old girl
in a long-sleeved, turquoise t-shirt
from the children’s department.

And now she stands before me,
or rather she doesn’t stand before me at all,
she is just a disembodied voice coming to me through the telephone.

I might try to reconcile that voice
with the body of the girl,
but the voice is that of a woman, a young woman.

A young, intelligent and beautiful woman.
A young, intelligent and beautiful woman who has travelled, who is travelling now.

I cannot remember when the voice stopped belonging to the girl and became that of the woman.

I know there is no one moment,
no one precise moment that exists for me to recall,
in which this change suddenly occurred.

I cannot remember how this change came to pass,
but I suppose it must have been a gradual shifting.

I find myself seeing the skins of all the ages between girl and woman
slipping off her and meeting the floor without a sound.

And so she stands before me now.
Or rather, she doesn’t stand before me at all.

And I find myself surprisingly full of feeling about the whole thing.

5 Comments leave one →
  1. Diva permalink
    October 19, 2010 9:22 am


    Words fail me.

    That is lovely. Truly, truly beyond lovely and oh my God…very intimate, the memories it brings up. *smish*

  2. October 19, 2010 9:35 am

    I’m so very glad you think so, thanks for commenting.

  3. JBBC permalink
    October 21, 2010 11:03 am

    Hi Darcy, you recently left a comment on my blog and this is how I found your wonderful writing. I really love this poem and wonder if you would be interested in submitting this or any other poem to my regular Friday poetry slot? I would love to feature your writing there. Kind Regards. Marie


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