Was That You Margaret?

Was that you Margaret,
Flying in a screaming rage,
Face contorted and dark,
Silhouetted by the doorway,
Black shawl fringes
Making long black fingers.?
A terrifying sight -
At least, to my baby eyes.

Was that you Margaret,
Pushing with the strength of ten?
Going down the stairs
I thought I was flying.
For the rest of my life
I could feel those hands,
Large on my back:
The feeling never left me
Nor the fear.

It WAS you Margaret.
I never forgot.
The memories got broken
Stored separately
'Til such a time
As this -
When I am strong enough
To remember,
And survive...