Memory
Again and again she recites
the injuries inflicted on her
through the years, rehearses
each imagined slight, affront,
and rebuff. The litany of her joys
is brief, but the list of wrongs
done to her is without end,
each incident leading her to recall
another, a continuous looping
tangle of transgressions to keep her
woundedness ever fresh.
4 thoughts on "Memory"
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Truth here. Truth here.
A downer. One wants to reach out, say “stop it!”
I identify a little with this person. I know it’s not a good thing exactly but I do have grievances. Lately I give myself the occasional assignment of writing about joy. Great and insightful little poem.
This makes my heart hurt in different ways. It’s one I needed to read more than once.