Today the prompt is to write a poem about a 'family anecdote'.
Small things.
It is not uncommon, I find, to have people
Tell tales of things that happened to them
Years ago, or that happened to their aunt or
Perhaps their cousin, or their father even.
These tales are the constant thread that
Weaves through the tapestry of family
Gathering, whether at a funeral when all
Are reminiscing, or at a wedding or party.
It is far from uncommon for such tales
To be told in company, over coffee with friends,
Or a beer with colleagues at the end
Of a very long day.
For the person who has no such happy
Memories on which to draw, they are a mixed
Blessing; they entertain and amuse, but
They also remind the listener of their
Own inadequacies that stem from their
Abnormality or Difference.
An orphan, a child in care, a child who
Was ill for years, whose parent was in
And out and in and out of hospital perhaps?
A child who does not understand, who was
Bullied or ignored or abused.
The stories are small things, but they not only
Provide a thread in the tapestry of life, they
Can also be the knife that rips the tapestry
From top to bottom and leaves it
In irredeemable tatters.
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