It is not what I have done, but what I still must do.
Reminders, lists; they come to you, without warning.
A song. A sound, a scent; shades of the past, of
time long expired or relationships that didn’t last.
Grocery lists of what to get, sticky notes remind you
of what not to forget. Still, I often do. Or I will try.
How can I decide? Indecision pushes it all to the side
or out of sight. Only recall allows it to survive. Inside.
Little bits and pieces of unnecessary nonsense strewn
about the stacks of essential things that must get done.
Amidst the mental clutter, superfluous stuff to be silently
sacrificed. Forgotten, until memories come rushing back.
Trauma will not disappear. It will, over time, dissipate,
but always remains close enough to feel. Unneeded.
Reminders are varied, something that serves to keep alive
clandestine keepsakes. Observed only by yourself.
© 2023 j.g. lewis
