#week3.5

[g---radius-blog]

More indents, colonisation makes marks on a society and a culture that can not be taken back, these may seem small but they have a lasting impact

[parkandpoem-blog]

Envisages

“I like to imagine they can see us,” she says, and he rather does not know sometimes she speaks in riddles and he not at all. "The stars." Lying in the field, hands grazing, never holding cool breeze tickling the blades and whistling rides off the bay a shiver slips up her spine who can say if it's from fingers or from the chill both and neither she'd reckon she wishes he'd whisper "I hope they're watching us too."

[parkandpoem-blog]

we forget so many things

I left behind so many memories like baggage, And only lately wondered what became of excess loads. My memory, like the weight on a U-Haul truck with Arizona plates, Rolling to New York, is lighter now than when we left.

If this doesn’t fit today, it’s as good as gone tomorrow – A few miles down the road and it’s as though these things were never mine at all, A faded sofa patterned with wilted flowers, et cetera, discarded; What I gave up might still live on, refurbished in a friendly home.

Years later, I know, I may find the road beneath me yet again, I may visit with an old-time acquaintance who will share their home with me, We will not have spoken in years, but stubborn friendship crosses a great distance; I pass the threshold of their home and enter rooms of unfamiliarity.

The hum of their voice catalogs exotic items, hazy moments from a life I’ll admire yet never know: “This my life – and here is something you may remember,” they will say, THE FADED COUCH, AS GOOD AS NEW, So new that at first I don’t recognize it, but it’s true.

What once was lost, in the craze of moving, I never thought to lay a claim of value to, thinking it worthless if it was thought of at all, And here it is more cherished in the sudden reunion than ever was it loved before, This couch, this memory that makes me feel oddly whole, Now is found.