Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Write something AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL (10/02/14)
- TITLE: Patterns of Memory
By Margaret Kearley
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ADD TO MY FAVORITES
Snugly hidden beneath the shelf
Concealed the infant treasure
Of my brother and myself …
Meccano, jigsaws, books, a doll,
A spinning top, a ball,
Boxes of cut-out fuzzy felt,
Much more I can’t recall,
But one outstanding memory
Arising still today
Was of a much loved patterned tube
And hours of happy play …
I slowly turned the kaleidoscope,
I watched the patterns change:
Light turned to dark, dark turned to light,
Shapes moved and rearranged,
New coloured hues shot into place
Whilst others vanished into space!
Time’s wheels have turned since last I held
That treasure to my eye,
But pictures come and pictures go
As passing years speed by…
The opening pattern is not one
Of choice or strong desire,
No pleasing shades of crimson rose,
No warming tints of fire.
Instead dull greys of dismal hue,
Distinctive bright-hued lack,
Just light grey, dark grey, interspersed
With painful shards of black:
Illness, bereavement, sorrow,
A young mother shedding tears,
Two tiny bairns can’t comprehend
The picture that appears.
But day by day this mother – (mine) –
Lives what her lips confess,
Her strength renewed by One who holds
Widow and fatherless.
Slowly turns the kaleidoscope,
Slowly the patterns change:
Dark turns to light, colour appears
Shapes move and rearrange.
Emerald, jasper, chrysoprase,
Rich jewelled shades of green
Dance like the early days of Spring
Upon the living screen:
A happy childhood, school-filled days,
Long summer breaks of sun,
Abundant memories jostle
Then like a flower are gone.
Slowly turns the kaleidoscope
Abundant varied hue,
Reminders of experience,
And paths I’ve travelled through.
But on each screen I notice
Strong golden rays of light
That pierce each passing picture
As if with jewels bright:
Red garnets, rubies, corals,
Speak of Christ’s precious blood
Redeeming me from sin and guilt
When I was just a child;
There’s pink rose quartz of healing,
From His love-filled gentle hand,
Unending tender patience
Enabling me to stand;
There’s silver of refining;
Iridescent opal shade
Filled with changing colour
Of each promise He has made;
There’s amethyst of purple
That tells His majesty;
Clear stones of quartz and crystal,
His awesome purity.
O ever changing kaleidoscope
Your lessons richly tell
Of many passing scenes of life
On which I now could dwell.
But your diverse coloured beauty,
Each facet, change and face,
Speak more of God’s abundant love
And never failing grace.
One day my kaleidoscope will turn
With one last final twist
My earthly shadows, pains and joys
Will fade, cease to exist.
The final pattern on the screen –
Rich jewels thread with gold
Reveal a pure and perfect sight
That scarce I now behold.
And then it will apparent be
Each darkened shade of sight
Was needful to bring richly forth
The beauty of the Light.
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