Memories, Memories

~ because that’s all we are ~

Image by stevepb on pixabay

When the dead past

linked to our lives

delivers a full cup —

quaff it,

even if it is poison,

even if a sixth sense

deems it questionable.

Savor air-dried dreams

dissolved and adrift

in typhoons raised by

yesterday’s desire.

Make it possible

to taste again

pitches of songs written

on glacial winds or feel

moans of a sad lover,

hear drowned

rivers at work

carving rocks.

Remember how water

sat on her shoulders like pearls,

how passion ignited

lotuses in moonlight…

That too.

Unimaginable

sorrow of loss

will exsanguinate you.

Better a bitter barb

— it’s proof of life delivered —