Skip to main content

For, I forget

You remember that phone call? The simple question, the complicated answer? You remember that email? The honest confession, the complete denial? You remember that fight? The insane aggression, the innocent surprise? You remember that threat? The blatant force, the meager push-back.You remember that list? The itemized oppression, the stupid assent? You remember the pieces? The gruesome look, the fearful eyes? You remember that blackmail? The suicidal tendency, the gullible night? You remember the desertion? The empty street, the lonely find? You remember the music? The polar confusion, the naive cessation? You remember the silence? The deafening vacuum, the tragic sigh? You remember those tears? The careless laughter, the unassuming plight? You remember the blaming? The careless pin-pointing, the quiet lies? You remember the escape? The casual manipulation, the honest fright? You remember the speed? The near stop, the begging twice?

I hope you remember.

For, I forget. 

Comments

  1. Anonymous3 May 2013 at 09:23

    “Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche

    And then there is the antithesis from Edgar Allen Poe, "“If you wish to forget anything, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.”

    AnL

    ReplyDelete
  2. Puneet12 May 2013 at 20:34

    Do you remember - what I remember....

    We walked together on the wet grass
    Your feet soggy with reality
    My arms flapping in dreams,
    I tried to cherish your smile
    That was growing distant it seems…

    When the grey skies parted and
    The rainbow then broke through...
    We looked at each other
    I was wrapped all in orange
    And you had shades of blue....

    We lived the same song once,
    How come the tunes we hum are so differ now...
    The leaves on our backyard tree,
    Has wilted buds that are going to wither now....

    Roof was the same overhead
    Cocoons underneath very tightly wound
    Desires were winged on clouds seamless,
    Yet memories rough and earth bound

    You can't remember - what I remember,
    As I have forgotten what you chose to remember...
    Memories are faulty, elective and patchy,
    Yet hope asks somewhere
    do you remember
    what I remember......

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Could I have imagined you?

Every year, I think about you. Not too many times, but consistently, a few times. And each time I am not sure how I should feel. There is a vague sense of loss, a subtle tinge of abandonment, a painful realisation of independence. But mostly, there is just a numb nothingness.   Who were you? I am not even sure I remember your face. Your smile, yes. Your eyes, too. But in pieces, in context. I can't imagine your reaction in a new situation. I can't see you as you may have become. I can only see the frozen moments that I have embalmed in my head.   I wonder if you feel the need to see me. If you imagine what it may feel like to talk to me now. If you wish you had known me all this time. If I am even a real person to you. If you have convinced yourself that I don't exist.   Perhaps it isn't as simple as moving on, as erasing, as avoiding. Maybe it's an intense removal, a complete denial. I don't hate you. I don't love you. It's an absence of anything ta...
25 comments
Read more

Well kept secrets - Part 3

Why am I writing all this? What is the point of saying these things aloud? For many reasons. One, to remember. So I can always go back and re-experience the first joys of motherhood. Second to heal, forgive and forget. For those moments that were traumatic - to be able to let go. Third, to inspire more sharing. Pregnancy and labour came with so much advice and so many stories - from every woman I knew. In contrast, the weeks and days and hours after the baby arrived seemed like an empty vacuum. It's almost as if all this is a well kept secret. (I am not sure if its just me that this was a secret from, but I was caught by surprise by the first few weeks of Rumi.) And so, as I dealt with all my emotions, and physical sensations, I decided to break the silence in my own tiny way. RCH was different from Peace Arch. In many, many ways. Among these was that they didn't allow our 'Doula' to stay with us at night. And in a way we thought it was okay. There was only one couch ...
6 comments
Read more

Brainless heart

Instinctive desire Animal sanity Human need No rationality Taking every risk Making every move And then  Regret Reckless desire Left uncontrolled Effortlessly moving  In opposite directions Pulled together Ripped apart Stupid emotions Brainless heart
14 comments
Read more