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Poem 111

Memories for Forgetting

By Kait ThursdayPublished about a year ago Updated about a year ago 1 min read
Runner-Up in Full Moon Challenge
4

When there was water for weeping,

and breath for screaming,

and feet for leaving,

and love for losing,

“So long ago,” the voice whispers ghostly

and the morning seems far-flung.

I conspired with myself,

my own self, who painted the stars

with only imagination for a brush.

The things we contrived together,

her and me the same, were to help us lose

what neither wine nor women could relieve.

So, we set out beyond the border,

where the Van Allen Belt fell away,

that we might fry in peace.

In those starry heavens, we saw movement,

and were confronted with rememberings

long-regretted and long-abandoned.

The first memory ate our closed eyelids,

forced us to look and see:

a church in an ancient city,

with music drifting from windows welded shut.

And the fence of barbed wire went prickling around

and I asked me, “Does it keep us out or God in?”

The second lulled us falsely like a friend

whose knife hand itches to betray.

The flowers blew in breezes so tender and mild.

But we knew it would fade. And so it did.

We experienced eons of the worst pain ever felt,

looking at him as he stood in the field of poppies.

And there was water for breathing.

So, we drew a deep breath indeed.

The sea threatened and cried,

tossing us onto the edge of the cliff.

We looked into its nadirs from the peak

and smiled at one another before diving back in.

The last blew rainstorms through us and over.

The forest bent its knees as if to spring,

but held its ground in the end.

And there were we, my own self and I,

waiting for waking in the clearing,

swallowed by the depths of night.

There were memories for forgetting ,

but I told me to keep them instead

and lose them on life’s natural course.

So we bid ourselves adieu.

And I resigned myself to recollecting

what my dreams will not allow me to forget.

surreal poetrysad poetryheartbreak
4

About the Creator

Kait Thursday

I'm a poet and a novelist, but my friends call me a starving artist. I've been writing for twenty years and have no plans to stop. I post new content to Vocal every month, but I have ADHD, so remind me if I forget.

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Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  3. Masterful proofreading

    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

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Comments (2)

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  • Alison McBainabout a year ago

    Beautifully written imagery in your poem, Kait - haunting. Congrats!

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