My memory is a peculiar thing

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

My memory is a peculiar thing
taunting me with the past,
focusing on loss, heartbreak and anguish
than those moments of acceptance and joy
in stark contrast.

The more I remember, the less I remember.

Memory skews the reality of what
once was, of truth.
It must view this as a game,
how far can we deviate from reality
and still make her believe,
and build her future based on these?
When memories are distorted into a
new, thwarted figure
what do I have left?
What can I believe in? Lean on?

The more I remember, the less I want to
remember.

up and out

~ jennadawn ~ 2 Comments

Heat growing, building,
turning a darker, deeper shade of red
with each passing minute.
Transferring,
separating particles from each other.
Expanding,
until there is nowhere else
for the steam to go
but up
and out.

Eventually
the same will happen to me
as it has before.
With no where to go
but up, and out,
my lid will rattle
and bounce around
making music.

Four years ago

~ jennadawn ~ 1 Comment

Four years ago you left us
to find a brand new home,
among the sunshine, cloud and blue;
time to venture out on your own.

Four years ago you left us
I remember it like yesterday,
away from home, I got the call
that you had passed away.

Four years ago you left us
I remember our last hug,
your strong arms and deep voice both still there
that today, still run through my blood.

Four years ago you left us
on all of us, it’s been hard.
You live on and strong, now and forever;
in peppermints, baseball or a playing card.

Four years ago you left us
I still wish it wasn’t so.
But I dream of seeing you again someday
and into your arms I will go.

 

 

these hands

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

My, what these hands have touched,
carried
and blockaded,
held
and transformed,
prepared to hoist my body
upright off from off the floor
or raise up while my head lowers
in humility,
hold your hand, touch your face
feel your heart beat
for me, or so I thought.

They feel weathered, yet strong,
predicting the forecasted weather
ready to protect me.
I look down to admire
the scars, calluses and salted stains
that you helped to put there
and I thank you
for my hands are now ready
for any battle.

dreams about me

~ jennadawn ~ Leave a comment

Sometimes
I lay awake at night thinking of you.
Where you are
Who you are with
What occupies you at this moment
What you are thinking about.

Someone once told me
that in psychology
to have a dream about someone
means they
are thinking of you
and long for you.

I wonder if you feel this
feel me
thinking about you,
if you have dreams about me
like I am trying to make you do.