Many Chambers
Memory has many chambers
nests of, solace, caves of sleep,
ballrooms bursting bright with dancers,
summer back porch rich with song,
dorm room, apartment kitchen with
box of newborn kittens and window
in the blooming trees, hospital waiting
rooms, emergency rooms, hospital rooms.
I go there to mourn, or to rejoice,
to remember who I was and what
I loved, lost, gained, dreamed, feared.
I cannot live there. Only in this single
simple unfolding instant can I live.
You've created an ideal ode to memory. Every big, little thing cataloged and properly filed, awaiting the quick look or long perusal. Perhaps I'll use your poem as a prompt and write one of my own!
ReplyDeleteVery well stated, Victoria. We can thankfully visit our memories whenever we wish to.
ReplyDeleteThis poem is so meaningful to me now, Victoria. We only have the now. We can't live anywhere else; we can only visit. A great reminder. Well stated.
ReplyDeleteA nicely served up collection of memories. Pity we cant have memories of the future to work on :-)
ReplyDelete