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I hold each book

Inscribed with love

By Pauline FountainPublished 3 years ago • Updated 2 years ago • 2 min read
[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

Reading can be a road to freedom or a key to a secret garden, which, if tended, will transform all of life.

Katherine Paterson

I’m trying to breathe.

*

Why not just throw them out?

I hold each book shared, inscribed with love and longing.

I try to breathe as I make decisions on each.

They are our memories.

Memories of brief.

A decision on the precious as I sort.

Space limits and I am haunted by these memories of love and longing.

Milestones and a childhood stolen from me.

These books represent the exception.

I would hold him and read.

Why not just throw them out?

I hold each book shared, inscribed with love and longing.

I try to breathe as I make decisions on each.

They are our memories.

Memories of brief.

I thought I was free.

My very young son was wise and compassionate.

In line with the time spent with each parent, as laid down in the Agreement; mine was half time.

Ross’ words, many times repeated with minor iterations.

The words of one so young to help me process loss. He became my carer when I was severely psychiatrically unwell.

He reassured me at 4 years of age, “It’s okay Pauline, it’s just your ‘pression.”

He consoled me at 5 years of age, “It’s ok Pauline. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known my Nan so well.”

His words.

Many times repeated with minor iterations. The words of one so young to help me process loss.

I’m sorry Ross.

It became so much more than I could have imagined.

Then I lost you again.

A manifestation of Bipolar 1 (Rapid Cycling) and Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Terror.

I did not ask for this.

Terror in the reliving.

I sort his children’s books.

Yearning.

Hatred of circumstance.

I crave for it’s passing.

Let it pass today.

Why not just throw them out?

I hold each book shared, inscribed with love and longing.

I try to breathe as I make decisions on each.

They are our memories.

Memories of brief.

*

Now I breathe.

Farewell beloved remembrances.

Discarded?

No.

Let them bring joy to others.

[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

‘Discarded?

No.

Let them bring joy to others.’

[ Image : Pauline Fountain ]

Pauline Fountain. © 2023. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced without the written permission of the author.

heartbreaksad poetrylove poems

About the Creator

Pauline Fountain

Writing and photography provide a creative outlet to reflect with meaning on my life.

My mental health? Bipolar 1 (Rapid Cycling), Complex PTSD and Functional Neurological Disorder.

My son’s gentle wisdom furnishes me with the gift of hope.

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    Written by Pauline Fountain