Looking back on my life, as this blog keeps reminding me (am I punishing myself?), has shown me that we are not what we were and makes me wonder if we ever are who we are! This write was inspired by the line ‘merely witnessing time’ in the poem ‘unwound’ by Ken Gierke.
Was that me, the champion of the lunchtime, school-yard football team?
My Joseph and Becky’s Mary; And was that me, besotted with her sister and stealing her pyjamas?
A shy and nervous singer, in front of friends; marching on London to protest Cruise and to Stop The City; was that really me?
Proving myself, working and sweating hard in warehouses; eating everything in sight and never full.
Was that me?
That ran away to another country, got married, divorced and had a baby in between;
I changed nappies, boiled broccoli and lost myself there somewhere;
Was that me?
Despondent and desperate (oh yes!); drunk all the time and wandering Beijing on a whim.
Me? Married again, via Tokyo this time, revelling in an incomprehensible culture until it became impossible.
And was it even me who married a third time finally finding ‘the one’ (myself)?
Remembering the beginning like it might never have happened.
Was it me or a TV show, a fever dream? I am the only witness, but my memory is uncertain that I was even there.
Please gather together, all my ghosts, and let’s go over this again.
2 thoughts on “A Mere Witness – 16th September 2025”
Merely going through the motions can become like being stuck in a rut. Until we take the opportunity to appreciate each moment, time can pass us by, leaving us little more than memories.
To be honest, none of it ever felt like I was going through the motions (except that time I lost myself). It seems to be instinctual to kick against the pricks for some reason. And still, we are left with little more than memories, either way.
Merely going through the motions can become like being stuck in a rut. Until we take the opportunity to appreciate each moment, time can pass us by, leaving us little more than memories.
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To be honest, none of it ever felt like I was going through the motions (except that time I lost myself). It seems to be instinctual to kick against the pricks for some reason. And still, we are left with little more than memories, either way.
LikeLiked by 1 person