First Memory

Welcome!

This is a space to share my poems and dreams. Eventually, I’d like to compile these thoughts into a little prayer-book of sorts. Let me know your thoughts!

This poem is about one of my first memories: the violence of being (accidentally) stabbed and the incongruous societal expectation that you must tough it out, you have to “kiss-and make-up”, and then you move forward. Anybody with siblings knows how fast this turnaround between war and peace is expected, and sometimes it is frankly bullshit.

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forgiveness

i once held joy

but you culled it.

because you could.

because love is

capricious and eternal

violence.

you sliced so deftly,

cutting the hand

instinctively raised

to protect myself.

the horror of your mouth

let me know how it was.

i froze in the retreat

of your convict

conscience.

i didn’t scream

until they held me down

dug lead out,

and scolded me

for dying.

you didn’t cry

until they tracked you down,

drew you out,

and punished you

for lying.

where do we learn

to rehearse these battles,

to deny pain a stage,

to playact forgiveness?

feign trust

but wait

for the knife

you voiced regret

but i nulled it.

because i could.

because love is

vindictive and ceaseless

silence.

Permanence in poetry as in love is perceived instantly. It has not to await the test of time. The proof of a poem is not that we have never forgotten it, but that we knew at sight that we could never forget it. — Robert Frost