The Letters in the Attic

a poem by Mary Mathew

The attic lays in front of me dusty
Like my memories of an yesterday,
Of a time in my life where everything
Was beautiful, hopeful and thriving.

The nostalgic thoughts that I indulged in
Was awoken when my attention was drawn
To the two antique chests of my forefathers.
My trembling fingers anxiously seeks for
A reopening of the flashbacks hidden there.

This was the place of my childhood play
Where I had confided my secrets everyday.
The secrets that every girl had on her first love
Were blossomed here, nurtured here, destroyed here.
Here I neatly, caringly wrote the letters to him-
The secreted letters to my beloved one!

My mind becomes flooded of the poetical lines
I wrote to him, the realisation of the poetry in me
Was born in every letter to him, the divine feeling
Of love was shared by the divine experience of poetry.
A sonnet of love, a prose of worship, a soliloquy of jealousy-
All made me someone I didn’t know I was, a drama being
Staged where I was the actress and he my unseen audience.

Words I wrote in another time was reaching out to me,
Voices of the past speaking to me, hurting my conscience.
Long-forgotten tales are being refreshed without my consent-
The passions of the past ignited, burning me in a fury and
My hands touch the chests to read the profound love that
Was penned long ago to quell the torment of my soul.

My guilt was torturing me, my conscience pricking me,
Of the sin of awakening a past I buried a long time back.
I am in a dilemma, I need solace, and I need the fortitude.
In the conflicting sounds surrounding me, I heard a voice
Behind me and as I turned, my wedding vows echoed
Into my being, the presence of this man near me was the
Answer to my confusion, extinguishing the sinful flame.
A hush of peace falling over me and I left the past to its past,
The future unfolding before me like a budding rose hopefully.