Originally untitled, Sunflowers of My Youth was written sometime in the late 1990's. A despairing poem, it was among the first of such despairing works that marked a sense of loss of innocence.
Was it only last night that I was so young
In knowledge and in action
Now I lay here far older than I was yesterday
Soiled and unclean with a filth that will never wash off my soul
Was it only last night that I was so innocent
Believing in ever-lasting love which I now in my old age know doesn't exist
Believing that love in its all-encompassing glory could heal a world torn apart by hate
Was it only last night that the world seemed so flat
Now it with all its rounded dimensions has come crashing down on me
Bearing down on me with its overwhelming weight
Causing all my fragileness to buckle and snap
Devastating me with its one mighty stroke
Was it only last night that I was so young
Was it only last night that I felt so wonderful in my ignorance and innocence
Was it only last night
Towards the end of 2006, I took an avid interest in acquiring publication and began pouring through my notebooks in search of poems I thought worthy of editing for submission. Despite editing this particular poem several times, I only submitted it once—its subsequent rejection placed it on my back burner for an entire year.
When my cousin came to live with me in December of 2007, she brought with her a whole host of memories that had been locked away for the better part of a decade. Needing an outlet for all the emotions (guilt being at the forefront) that were suddenly drowning me, I once more poured through my notebooks. This is what became of the poem.
Sunflowers of My Youth
was it only last night that I was so young,
in knowledge and in action?
now I lay here, far older than I was yesterday,
soiled and unclean with a filth
that will never wash off my soul.
no longer an innocent,
now, I am among the damned,
and I long for the sunflowers of my youth.
my youth is liberally perfumed with the scent,
a sweet intoxicant that made me dim of wit
and convinced me of an invincibility I did not own.
all too soon, the world, with all its rounded dimensions,
crashed down upon me,
devastating me with one mighty, unforgivable stroke,
and stealing from me my youth.
was it only last night that I was so young?
that I felt so wonderful in my ignorance,
in my innocence.
oh, sweet sunflowers of my youth,
I crave the carefree air that you lent me,
but I no longer breathe as those who have not sinned do,
and with gills grown out of necessity I continue to live,
though I drown in the misery my wisdom has wreaked upon me.
and for what?
a love that blinded me against reason?
a love that I had already scorned?
redemption is beyond me.
were it offered,
I would probably refuse it.
wretches such as I do not deserve Paradise,
and it is the scent of light blue and not sunflowers
that will wreathe around me as I descend into the pit Hell.
~ Wamuhu Mwaura, posted on Words Much Like Poetry December 29, 2007
The poem gained its title from the Elizabeth Arden perfume Sunflowers, a scent I used to wear in my late teens. A scent I'd not worn for years until my cousin encouraged me (she did a lot of that) to purchase a bottle and wear it for old times' sake. I find the fragrance both evocative and enduring, two ideals I did not feel that I embodied when I took my first whiff of it from a tester at the age of fifteen. However, the shield that it provided me against my innate shyness was a fragile one and it crumbled under the weight of adult realizations and heartbreak of one form or another.
Once my cousin moved out, I found I could no longer tolerate all that the scent stirred within me. Perhaps, though... Perhaps, I came to the realization that time and experience had built the shield that my youth had denied me. Well, regardless, what endears this poem to me is that it earned Words Much Like Poetry its first fan. So, this one's for you, D.K.
Image: Anna Cervova, Sunflower, Public Domain Pictures.net
Was it only last night that I was so young
In knowledge and in action
Now I lay here far older than I was yesterday
Soiled and unclean with a filth that will never wash off my soul
Was it only last night that I was so innocent
Believing in ever-lasting love which I now in my old age know doesn't exist
Believing that love in its all-encompassing glory could heal a world torn apart by hate
Was it only last night that the world seemed so flat
Now it with all its rounded dimensions has come crashing down on me
Bearing down on me with its overwhelming weight
Causing all my fragileness to buckle and snap
Devastating me with its one mighty stroke
Was it only last night that I was so young
Was it only last night that I felt so wonderful in my ignorance and innocence
Was it only last night
Towards the end of 2006, I took an avid interest in acquiring publication and began pouring through my notebooks in search of poems I thought worthy of editing for submission. Despite editing this particular poem several times, I only submitted it once—its subsequent rejection placed it on my back burner for an entire year.
When my cousin came to live with me in December of 2007, she brought with her a whole host of memories that had been locked away for the better part of a decade. Needing an outlet for all the emotions (guilt being at the forefront) that were suddenly drowning me, I once more poured through my notebooks. This is what became of the poem.
Sunflowers of My Youth
was it only last night that I was so young,
in knowledge and in action?
now I lay here, far older than I was yesterday,
soiled and unclean with a filth
that will never wash off my soul.
no longer an innocent,
now, I am among the damned,
and I long for the sunflowers of my youth.
my youth is liberally perfumed with the scent,
a sweet intoxicant that made me dim of wit
and convinced me of an invincibility I did not own.
all too soon, the world, with all its rounded dimensions,
crashed down upon me,
devastating me with one mighty, unforgivable stroke,
and stealing from me my youth.
was it only last night that I was so young?
that I felt so wonderful in my ignorance,
in my innocence.
oh, sweet sunflowers of my youth,
I crave the carefree air that you lent me,
but I no longer breathe as those who have not sinned do,
and with gills grown out of necessity I continue to live,
though I drown in the misery my wisdom has wreaked upon me.
and for what?
a love that blinded me against reason?
a love that I had already scorned?
redemption is beyond me.
were it offered,
I would probably refuse it.
wretches such as I do not deserve Paradise,
and it is the scent of light blue and not sunflowers
that will wreathe around me as I descend into the pit Hell.
~ Wamuhu Mwaura, posted on Words Much Like Poetry December 29, 2007
The poem gained its title from the Elizabeth Arden perfume Sunflowers, a scent I used to wear in my late teens. A scent I'd not worn for years until my cousin encouraged me (she did a lot of that) to purchase a bottle and wear it for old times' sake. I find the fragrance both evocative and enduring, two ideals I did not feel that I embodied when I took my first whiff of it from a tester at the age of fifteen. However, the shield that it provided me against my innate shyness was a fragile one and it crumbled under the weight of adult realizations and heartbreak of one form or another.
Once my cousin moved out, I found I could no longer tolerate all that the scent stirred within me. Perhaps, though... Perhaps, I came to the realization that time and experience had built the shield that my youth had denied me. Well, regardless, what endears this poem to me is that it earned Words Much Like Poetry its first fan. So, this one's for you, D.K.
Image: Anna Cervova, Sunflower, Public Domain Pictures.net
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