Testimony: Poem

The past is always coming back.

Can it help or hurt me?

What a heck.

It does not sting like a bee.

The past is always very present.

Almost eighty percent of claim

Comes from social history aim.

The mind is going back and force,

Because the memory does not have any remorse.

When I travel down the timeline,

Here is an interesting point, to decline

The information online.

instead, I remember the person I used to be.

There is no service fee

To marvel on at the person I have become.

I am not afraid of the judgement to overcome.

What happened? The past is counted down

The years, the moments,

The promises, the usual standard grants.

I try to tell the personal story

To express my gratitude,

For more than half century overdue

As a way to reconcile the attitude

From past to present.

Thit is all how far I went,

With my letter of gratitude to be sent

From an angel to saint,

Following the imagery from the past

The reappears later at large,

Because when I trust,

My instincts saying, "You must!"

My mixed media includes

The artist's book

Illustrated in fiber and wood.

What did she write?

A wrinkle in time, a bite,

The memory contains

And embrace

The diaspora's courtesy.

The record of life from European ecstasy

To American complicity -

Next signal,

Take out.

Kids, eats,

And fits.

Apartments for rent,

There is not any end.

Lott's to lease,

Many lists everybody to please.

Tires for sale,

Money to bail.

Available space -

Take the chance.

There is not any shortage

Of any storage.

Headings and subtitles

To guide the stories' front lines.

Pop up memory's signposts of previous,

Stating the obvious

in the sky, in clever way

Describing the day

And making the testimony in bold

As the stories began to be told.

Ida Tomshinsk@2024