Of joys, and pain. Stored. In memory. Darkly. Irreversible. Makes, sometimes breaks, us. Never loosening their hold when we try to shake loose from their grip, their presence reoccurs in night’s darkest moments – these morning showers cannot ever wash away.
Light doesn’t eliminate or illuminate darkness. Just makes it very difficult to see dark, to feel dark, to get our bearings while wandering in that darkness. Not mean, or steamy or seamy. Simply, complicatedly, all of those – darkness steals light from day, steels heart’s decay – it seems to work that way.
When these experiences pierced me (or skewered us) so long ago – that combo of person, place, predicament – like butter placed on hot rocks. First there was melting, morsels cooking – etching memory. We don’t remember what we ate or what time it was, but we never forget whose face we saw, whose hand we held, whose words we hung upon …
Summer nights are magical cauldrons for memory. Sleep deprivation is counteracted with bitter sweet memories of subtlety, of long ago, of words not spoken and treasured moments never released from our grip. Or their grip on us.
One day, or night, I will understand it all – feel it all, know it all. Until then these thoughts will haunt me, and bathe me, swaddling me in memories – it seems to work that way.
Forever. And always.
written / published from Calgary, AB
morning walk: 15C/60F, steady breeze, sliver of a moon standing guard over the horizon – as pink and grey cloud shards prove once again the sun will come up every morning; Gusta happy to sniff rabbit trails in the dark, we had a good trot for a while …
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