AUTHORS COMMENTARY

Written on June 3rd 2023. I was wrestling with the memory of our loss, and it hit me quiet sharply this time. After having a little break down, I just wanted to forget, but knew I never could. This represents the lament of a selfish wish to forget what had been.

I my more lucid moments, I don't wish to forget. Instead, I wish to remember. The edges of memory become more fuzzy as time goes by, their faces, their look, their size, all a little less clear, and it kills me to not have that clarity anymore. And yet, at the time, all I wanted was to forget, because with the clearness came sharp edges, the serrated edges of a knife like memory driven into my heart.

I'm still a bit of a mess honestly. But I am getting better. My feelings change as time goes on.

I suppose, in a way, poetry is like photography. It captures a moment, but never the living experience.