Second Life

Prologue:

Can you ever separate,

a moment from an hour,

a smile from a memory,

a wish from the night?

Can you hold them-

cherished slices of life-

to your bosom,

and hope they

never leave,

like the stems of

an

already

dead plant?

**

 

Where do

broken memories

go?

 

Is there a

recycle bin

to make room

for more

in your

neurological storage house?

 

Can you melt them

like candle wax

effervescing the pain

into the blue flame?

 

Does that smell good?

Campfire soot

and snuggly

caramel dreams,

turned into

residues that no longer

breathe?

 

Can you tuck

them into

your old bunker bed

and sell it to the

next antique

that collects

memories?

 

Is there

an assembly-line

where you can

carefully

separate out

the whole from

the

broken?

 

Weed out

the upturns

and

overtures,

clean out the

scratches and

stains,

and recycle

the broken pieces

into a

whole again?

 

Like walls of the new

house

without

layers of

unreachable

scaffolding?

 

Is there a

second life

for broken

memories?

**

FullSizeRender (5)
Half over fallen. Near Swede Hollow, St Paul
FullSizeRender (4)
From a postcard, from a friend who travelled to Thailand, and then sent me this.

One thought on “Second Life

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