A few years ago, Poet Ariana R Cherry wrote the eerie peculiar narrative poetry tale of a young girl named, A’sale, who found herself lost and her memory somewhat cloudy… A poem that some loved in her collection, “Twisted Paths Poetry,” Ariana decided to record it via her podcast, “Spoken Word Poetry.”
If the poem itself draws you in, perhaps you should listen, as Ariana recites this slightly spooky tale…. Click here to listen to “Not Forgotten.” Follow along with Ariana by reading the poem below….
In a wondrous moment
Of pale moonlight,
A’sale , still feeling quite
Like a freighted young child,
Hid beneath the long wicked branches
Of an overgrown rusty old tree.
A’sale was lost in a moment,
Somewhere in a once forgotten
Moment, had lost her mind,
No matter how hard she tried,
That memory she could never find.
And tonight, in a child-like trance,
Here she was again, doing another
Repetitive song and dance.
Her skin was so white that it glistened,
But her ears were mute,
So she stood alone and deaf,
it seemed like nobody ever
Round wide blue eyes shined through
With a bulge,
Her skin lay damp, lifeless and cold,
Awaiting for some type of warmth
That she could indulge.
Red auburn hair that
was once beautiful and shined,
Now hung loose and listless,
Its style was obviously the mark of a
Lost forgotten time.
Here she was, trapped in a lonely hole of darkness.
Swept inside a patch of story-like fog,
A’sale stood silent and afraid…
A reality of an outside world,
She clearly had the ability to dismiss.
At one time, everything had been clear that once was.
Only now, not a single memory awakened this forgotten state,
Poor A’sale didn’t even know the why or because…
A heartache had left her here
To remain only a number, without a name
And still around her,
the night remained
lonely and cold…
A’sale had thought she bestowed the
Body of a young innocent child,
But she couldn’t remember a time that she felt so old.
As she stare down in a child-like wonder,
Her hands appeared fragile and frail,
Fingernails yellowed, but dirty and worn beyond repair.
A tattered antique white dress she wore
And its sleeves, wrinkled and tore.
A’sale stared down at her small elongated
But numb feet,
They felt like a block of ice,
There just wasn’t any warmth or heat..
She only wished she could pull those lost
Forgotten memories so true,
But she couldn’t even manage a whisper of help
From lips that were a pale icy blue.
Alone, she hid, under an estranged lost
A’sale hid under its wicked branches,
Wishing she could break free.
For a brief moment,
she sat down,
With her lips pursed into a permanent frown.
In a sigh of heavy distress, she reached down
To arrange a family heirloom cross necklace..
That lay around her neck.
But then something caught her attention,
A lost reminder or perhaps a faded memory
Of where she might have been….
Upon this slump where she had sat,
Some words she read began to bring her back…
“Our Dear A’sale,
lovely innocent child.
For ours to love, forever and always…