I wish the last face I ever saw was yours
Your bright green eyes, your complexion warm and kind
That would be a sight worth cherishing, after I saw nothing more
And your smile, the one expression etched forever in my mind
That look that says, I will always love you fully
I would carry deep within me, to return to, home inside
A stable touchstone, a reminder, that I am whole and holy
Whenever I am struggling, each time I long to hide
I’d replace that ever-present, soul-seared sneer of hate
With the colors of compassion in your soft soothing gaze
And in the places where the harsh shadows wait
Yours would be the lingering face, the gentleness behind closed eyes
I wish I could erase the projections from my map, the fear and false belief
With its overgrown topography, all that’s cruel and haunted
And in its place I’d trace an infant’s landscape in relief
The clay composed of safety, trust, and always feeling wanted
And if I could give one gift to you
Here’s what it would be
To discover, despite all I’ve been through
Your picture in a memory
*********
The last face I ever saw, the only face I have a visual memory of, is the face of the person who abused me when I was six months old. Until I recently recovered the memory and varified it was accurate, I never realized that the face I imagined often in my mind’s eye when I was beeing the cruelest and harshest on myself was identical to this person’s face.
With that discovery, I started to wonder what it would have been like to instead remember my parents’ faces (my brothers weren’t born yet.) I wondered how it might have been different if I had internalized the loving faces of my family, before they had to face what happened to me: faces that held the joy and love of two people who had just brought a new child into the world. If I had a visual memory of that love, even if everything else happened as it did, what might be different?
And for someone who has always believed it was impossible to remember what it was like to see, having even just a glimpse of that experience is still taking a lot of time to process. It was like gaining and losing something simultaneously. And the rest I don’t have words for yet.
The Sound of What Happens 
So deep. So brave to write that… Remember that, in the terms of developmental psychology, the infant self forms as an image (psychologically) in conjunction with another image of the primary loved one – usually Mother. That will still be there, but both are subordinate to the reality of that fact that they are both images, and that YOU are something much greater… x
Thank you, Steve. I needed to take some space after writing this so it’s taken this long to reply to you. I just wanted you to know that your words have been very helpful to me and I am grateful for your perspective about what it is actually possible to internalize as an infant.
I’m happy to lend an ear any time you like.