SHADOWS OF UNCERTAINTY WITH A DASH OF FAMILIARITY

Armed with angst of the unknown,
I entered the opaque doors,
Knowing not what waits for me.
Suddenly, my mind flashes back,
Many years my distant past,
When I first started high school.  

 

The days when technology,
Was much like the sun rising
Above the ocean’s horizon.
Where typewriters chatted tales,
With each key striking paper,
Ready to share the day’s dole.  

Before I’m a minute late,
I always arrive early.
I approached the welcome desk.
Greeted by a young lady,
I gave my name and payment
She smiles and checks me in. 

 

She asks me to follow her,
Where I am shown to a room.
I enter the room, not cold.
With walls painted black and with,
What some may not call artwork
While others share their praise. 

Here, I am greeted again,
By this welcoming woman
With a genuine smile,
Larger than her petite self.
We chatted some, then I knew,
I felt we had met before.  

As the room began to fill,
I realized she’s the one  
Whom I e-mailed my questions.
Which she politely replied,
Not to just one, but a few,
Comforting my nervousness.

 

After her introduction,
She hoped to break the silence,
With an icebreaker to play.
She prepared a bingo sheet,
With mixed clues of character,
Ideally, match a square or more. 

Much like the first day of school,
Most returning, some new faces,
All sharing a common bond,
Creative muse of writing.
We sat, patiently listened,
As to what will happen next.   

 

Explaining poetic terms,
Proceeding to reciting,
A couple of her favorites.
She set out our directive,
Walk through the exhibit halls,
Both, the ground and second floor.  

Using our own sense of sight,
Find the piece calling to you,
Screaming your name as you near.
She shares, carefully listen,
Each piece has a tale to tell,
As unique as its own self.  

I tried following instructions,
Observed visual elements,
Along with other guidelines.
Each exhibit, like a clique,
Telling me, I don’t quite belong,
I must keep it moving along.

 

Each one being more distant,
I heard the faint laughter and
Taunting as if I never left,
Moving past my high school days.
With the startle of white noise,
Reality woke my soul. 

I walk out and all about.
It was the empty, white walls,
Looking like my blank notebook,
Called my name and welcomed me.
Alone, I approached closer,
Hoping to hear his story. 

I listened to the whispers,
Ever so faint, drowned out by,
Humming of the cooling air.
All the voices and footsteps,
Masqueraded their mumbles,
Yet, allowed words freely flow. 

Even after all these years,
My younger self still haunts me,
Even with many past years.
Realizing, much of me,
Still remains, just like back then,
A lost, social introvert.