I asked myself a question – how do memories feel? Can they sustain me for a long period alone? I remind myself that some are fading. I remember a song I wrote – the words, at least; “Freedom seeks a truthful owner / I am bound to disown her” I try to remember how I sat there writing them. I can’t. There is a la-tee-da nature about how thee sleep away.
How do I know that they are fading? When does it feel? It doesn’t. I don’t know – they are distented in time, but not space. I remember trying to remember the hospital after I was born. Older looking roundy shapes. And lofty goals. Faces not faces - blobs not baubles - not faces but not not faces. They are wrinkled but not. They are torn but not they are knotted but not tied.
Does this make me want to hold them? How do you hold a memories? How’re ideas held close? The ideals are expressed - the memurees have done things. The is and were and weren’t to be ferever.
My stomach becomes a pit of emptiness. Memories are made to be forgotten – like all things. Words loosen in my mind. Sumthan woarm feels in the hull… warm n fulld. Whas thiss? No words. SWurn. OmSel. WOfft. Somne. Nothing. I can’t find them. Nuthan finds me ether… Sheer Steer Clear Dear – somebodylostsomebodyhere. RED Yellow. Woarm.
Fear sets inn and these thinkings get more more more… warm. This iz like the furst time…. That pay-ned me. Fight! No safe. No safe? No – SAFE. Surrender.
I do and as I do I fly. Released from the words. A web of golden threads appears and shows a connection for all things I see. My hand is safely held and I venture forth.