memory bank


i cannot remember any of my mother’s native tongue
my father’s favourite tie
or my sister’s reasons for hoarding

i cannot remember what i had for breakfast
or anything you may have said
the morning after we got married

i cannot remember when i stopped playing the piano
or when i started letting myself go

i cannot remember all the lies i’ve told
or why men make war

i cannot remember what might cause women
to judge, invalidate, shun, erase, shame, oppress,
brutalize, condemn, injure or kill the spirit of
other women

i cannot remember if there’s a difference
between guilt and regret
but i can remember the words to every top 40 song
i heard on the radio
when i was thirteen

i cannot remember when i started writing
why i sent the artist away for 25 years
why helicopters scare me
but i remember peeing my pants
on the first day of kindergarten

i cannot remember the names of the apostles
where i left my sunglasses
or when to change the brita filter

i can’t remember to take my calcium supplements
to phone about the eavestroughs
to clean out the ring in the bathtub
or what i was looking for five minutes ago

sometimes it’s enough just to remember my own blessed eyes
my broken feet
and the hand that holds the pen
to remember that i am alive
to remember that i am loved
to remember to laugh

sometimes it’s enough just to remember
to breathe

0 Replies to “memory bank”

  1. very nicely done… what is it with this memory thing… i thought we were supposed to get wiser… how can i be wise if i cant fricken remember??????

  2. Great words, Laurie. Indeed, it is enough to remember to breathe. Breathing and blood. That’s all I seem to write about these days.

  3. thanks to you both. mike, i’m absolutely haunted by your image of red vials. today will be a day of working on my homework assignment while savouring the mountain landscape here in jasper, there’s blood on the bear’s paw… L

Leave a Reply