Sunday, December 5, 2010

on love and remembering

this is an older poem, a bit revised:

i remember feeling like children do
When digging with a spoon in the dirt,
Digging to get to the world
Their own secret way
i remember milk weeds soaking in the light
A city gives off
i remember the Roma mothers in their red slippers
As if escaped from the page of a book
Strolling through town - gently
As if the weight on their backs
Was not weight
i remember catching a glimpse of my grandfather
Staring out at the water, belittled or fascinated
Outstretching his arms like a boy that doesn’t know
Exactly what he wants, just knows he wants
i remember water to be a religion
For my non religious family
i remember the perfect stranger - a neighbor
Who when he wasn’t himself
Was a fisherman
And i remember his treasures he left behind for us kids
To find: wooden statuettes, coin collections,
Bones, fishing gear, sepia photographs, a key
No one cares to know what it unlocks
i can’t remember you the way you remember me
But we are the color of butterflies when
We hang on to each other
We protect each other from the storm by being
Entirely immersed in it
i hope you remember me
When owls stop to breathe
In the middle of their flight
i hope you still remember me
When i am just a part of the Atlantic
i remember being a code on the back
Of some skin, people trying to figure me out
Poking through with chemicals
Until i am useless or exactly what they have been
Needing to find
i remember wanting to scream
But forgetting how to
i remember being a newspaper
Melting in the rain
Word by word
Article by article
Page by page
People’s lives being taken away
From them for the second time
And still i remember you dancing
In the dark
i want to remember the world
The way it was days ago
Forgiving and curious,
Willing to give up parts of itself
To make space for everyone
For the scattered ones
For the ones wearing blood on the outside
For the butterflies that fly for hours on end
To get to where they can die in peace/peacefully
For your crafted fingers resting on the edge of the table
For your voice showing me what it’s all about
i will remember that it takes a lifetime
To unlearn to love you (though I see no reason)
Just as it would take a lifetime
Knowing the color of the sea, when it
Wants to be blue, then green,
Then black or pink, then invisible

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