1. memories

dreaming in b/logs

 

strong long feelings flood my moments

until i can see them as logs passing me in a river

flowing at the speed of proper goodbyes.

let nature carry them for me on her timely tides.

yes they were in me.   yes they are still of me.

and yes i won't forget them

so the question is how, how much and why.

as flowing logs in the manner of my words - finally -

streaming onto paper, recording tape, into air,

the gripping memories release

to the power of their own passing stream

once i desist from hoarding them

or riding them like a desperate logger.

were they comfort in their worn familiarity?

as much as a torn blanket, thinned by fatigue

of overuse.

did they make me wiser, shaping my insides

to fit their weight?

how wise do i want to be in this way,

in this unending inward pull?

dayenu.  enough.  it would be enough

had only one memory played for all that time

in the brain cells of my gut.

so...........many.

and now they float, carefully tagged for release,

going on to their own ocean, not mine

where i can find them with my watery mind

when i can use them instead of their using me.

yet their imprint has tagged me too

that i may now float free, or fly, or sleep,

or dream in the moment

where i find my self to be -

able to choose.

memories - heaven, hell or in between

no more hoarding.

copyright 2009 robin h. birdfeather