Memories

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  • Philosophy

    Memories

    Like shadowy wraiths they draw near

    Gliding over walls

    Triggered by fragrance, sound…..some ordinary occurrence

    Giving life to stories lying dormant

    Long forgotten

     

    Like a frigid draft this one closes in

    Encircles me with vengeance,

    Pierces my heart…again.

    Who said that time heals all wounds?

    For I stand here waiting….waiting

    But the pain lives on.

    This unseen scar,

    My constant reminder

    I endure, knowing that it will pass

    Knowing that it has passed

    Although my soul would have me believe otherwise

     

    Like a phantom the next one rises

    Infamy mounted upon its back

    Causing it; being it

    To an unknown and treacherous path

    The wrong turn flickers in the mist

    One seemingly insignificant move

    Heedlessly taken in the imprudence of youth

    But on that day the well ran dry.

    My mouth fills with bile

    The bitter taste of regret

     

    Like a sunbeam another surrounds me

    Warming my heart from pleasures past

    Basking in life’s rays…

    The sound of a child’s laughter…

    The scent of dew wet grass…

    The beauty of a golden sunset…

    Cool breeze on a warm face…

    Loving and being loved…

    A serene smile calls those days forth…..but uncertainly

    For distress lingers in the midst of delight

    The one accompanying the other

    I must relive them both

    For they are a part of me

    What I am made of.

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    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

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