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Poem

Remembrances 

 

Are they just pieces cluttered around? 

The letters in the box, the dried roses 

in one of the pages of my favorite books. 

They all seem, are going along with me 

like waves unknowingly push the detritus 

into the bed shore and bring them back

again to the bosom of the ocean..

 

There, they float unnamed, untagged 

Rain comes, shatters their wraps

Storm tears them apart, exposed 

I lift every meaning of them, 

cry every dent of pain, 

fix every chip of attachment. 

I rather, them be placed in the corner 

where no one dares to visit and  shove them 

away to the farthest part of my drawer 

and labeled, ''not significant."

 

But how? 

When their paces keep me up 

as fast as I want to escape, 

as slow as the time ticks to leave them behind.. 

When the red ribbon that binds them, peeks 

through the whiteness of forgetting..

And here I am tracing back

what these remembrances have to say,

spreading on the table of choices,

to dwell or to let go 

This, I am yet to consider...

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