Tag: memory

Ossuary

~ Meg ~ 17 Comments

A poem by Meg Sorick

My memory castle is a ruin
Its halls littered with debris
My fingers brush the dusty walls
And I strain in the gloom to see

The once bright panels and paintings
Have mouldered and mildewed with time
The shining pristine sculptures
Are crumbled and coated with grime

Moonlight streams through rotted beams
When I cast a glance above me
For the roof has fallen inward
And its heaven I can see

When I come at last to the final room
I resist the urge to turn and flee
The handle stays my trembling hand
My closet is an ossuary but I have lost the key

Memory

~ Meg ~ 22 Comments

A stack of letters bound by ribbon
Flower petal soft and old
And a box of sepia photographs
Of people she doesn’t know

But I’m supposed to keep them
Safe from mold and decay
Preserved for posterity
Instead of thrown away

Eggshell frail and delicate
Memories peculiarly her own
When one generation passes
Like a wisp of smoke, they’re gone

*As I clear out old photos and keepsakes that my mother has been carrying with her from place to place, I realize how very disconnected we can be from the generations of family who preceded us. My mom has photos of family members we don’t recognize and letters from my Grandmother’s cousins from Scotland. We’re trying to organize it in such a way as to keep as much as possible. Maybe someday I will research our family tree and these would be nice to have to match up with the names. Meanwhile, I’ve been taking photos of some of these old documents with my phones just to preserve them. And all the myriad slides are being converted to digital format so my entire childhood isn’t lost or impossible to view. I spent a good part of my day yesterday wandering down memory lane.

Pretty

~ Meg ~ 18 Comments

You said I had an interesting face

I knew you loved me then

When pretty girls were always eager

You chose a complicated woman

Not an easy path

Trampling the brittle bones

Of my past

While I would turn back

And try to resurrect them

Never really closing doors

So that the slightest breeze

Would blow them open

Oh, how you begged me

To give you the keys

But their weight in my pocket

Was a strange comfort to me

As if the chance to keep looking

At the scorched earth outside

Would remind me of the love

I now possessed

But even after all this time

With all your reassurances

And the absolute surety of your love

I can’t help but wonder if

You would have been happier

If my face was less interesting