In 1973 <br />I woke up <br /> <br />at 6.30. <br /> <br />It was the 11th August <br />& a Saturday. <br /> <br />The Curragh Plains <br />were clothed in mist <br /> <br />myriad of cobwebs <br />adorned the furze. <br /> <br />The morning was a jewel <br />waiting to be found. <br /> <br />Despite the fact <br />that I was very much <br /> <br />myself <br />that day <br /> <br />I remember <br />none of it. <br /> <br />It only exists <br />as a diary entry <br /> <br />(that is forgotten) <br />that I eclipse <br /> <br />with writing <br />this <br /> <br />a palimpsest of texts <br /> <br />this writing now <br />obliterating the diary entry. <br /> <br />I erase me <br />with me. <br /> <br />I am amused at <br />my 17 year old self <br /> <br />bored out of his <br />(our) mind <br /> <br />studying for exams <br />reading IVANHOE <br /> <br />(I can’t remember ever <br />reading it) <br /> <br />a jumble of selves <br />a jumble of texts <br /> <br />the me of now unable to understand the me of then <br />even disliking who I am <br />(or rather was) <br /> <br />knowing that if we had to meet <br />we wouldn’t get on. <br /> <br />No not even <br />friends. <br /> <br />(“How could I have ever been him! ”) <br />I think to myself. <br /> <br />(“What’s become of me! ”) <br />he probably wonders. <br /> <br />The only thing <br />we could have agreed on <br /> <br />was the beauty <br />of the furze <br /> <br />and what <br />it meant <br /> <br />to us. <br /> <br />In two minds <br />about the rest of us.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-then-of-me-the-now-of-i/
