Childhood FuguesI sit here, a stained glass window, reflecting rays of intensity.A stone with the stillness of the sea.Green waters crash into me,Bringing back warm fugues of childhood,Painted in hypersensitive reality,But better left in wayside poolsTo cool my feet from the hot sand,Where my footsteps are still immortalized,Through years of painful travel,The burden of guilt strapped heavy to my back.I watch the sunken ships resurrected.Toy ship, Viking ships, all alike,Float by on the foam of mermaid spirits.Each with their rudely carved figure of her,Stayed like a martyr to the bow stern,Like an adulteress,Or a descendent of Mary.A tambourine beat moves my feet,And I walk on water to bow beforeThese last pure servants of God.To beg forgiveness with my salt-green tears.And bloody palms clasped tight together,Not letting go of shame or remorseFrom a sin-stained childhood,Buried deep, in treasure chests of my memory. ... And for once I am forgiven.The passiveness of a tideWashes away my well-worn footprints.A release from the paths of my past.by Leah Hurley, Akron, OH