Can the triggering flashbacks
of a memory
hold beauty
alongside pain
at the same time?
Tag: memory
together again
You come to me in my dreams
when I least expect to see you
there you are
standing before me
beautiful as my memory remembers
you extend your hand
and I reach out mine
we connect
we are together
again.
detour
Just a small diversion this must be,
some kind of detour I should follow,
before resuming my previous trail
of moving forward,
of moving on.
short-lived recognition
Short-lived recognition,
if you can call it that,
of believing I know you from somewhere
and hoping
you recognize me too.
But just in case you don’t
I’ll dart my eyes away
before we know for sure.
blue jay
The one second I chose
to glance out the window
was the same second
you chose to land on the branch.
I immediately wonder
what meaning you bring,
what hidden message you carry,
what I’m destined to interpret.
You make me think of him.
Maybe
it was only coincidence.
A magnificent coincidence.
community mourning
A year has gone by
without you here.
The pain, the sorrow, the longing
feels as fresh today
as one year ago.
I sit in community
with all who knew and loved you
as we remember
your smile, passion, love;
I can hear your laughter
ringing out and through the first snow.
We mourn you.
We miss you.
We love you.
on that day
One day
you will think of them
for the first time in a long time
and you will think you can go back to that time
when you were happy, with them,
but then you will look around
and remember
they are not here.
On that day,
I will be here for you.
best kiss
When I ask,
“what was the best kiss you ever had?”
your memory dances,
I can see the sparkle in your eyes.
Who were they
where did it happen
did you see it coming
had you forgotten about it until now?
Let’s sit here in memory
if only for a moment.
Drown the sorrows
Drown the sorrows,
the struggles, the insecurities
in the liquid
that warms your mouth and throat
and leaves a fire
in its wake
to validate your acknowledgment.
How many times have you
tasted this burn,
felt it smoldering for hours and hours?
Tell me,
does it make things better
or worse?
my past self
I turn around,
take a look back at my past self,
read old journals
relive near-forgotten memories
and I think of her.
I yearn for her,
the young girl who thought
she had it all figured out,
a naive romantic
a dreamer.
What would it be like
to step back into those worn out Adidas shoes
and take in again her optimistic hopes
of the future, of the world beyond?
I ache for her pain,
revel in her happiness.
Some parts of her remain
in me
and other parts
I wish to recover from the buried sand.
Dawning Words 