1
The past an open wound bleeding
happiness over these latter, reduced
days, whose satisfaction comes from
ephemeral things, fluttering, flashing,
gone barely after the feeling fills us,
not the quiet permanence we lost.
2
To have had such things, such people,
and then to live on ruins of those days,
is to be a survivor of a deluvian world...
- what bombastic words, there are far
worse things, in this blighted world,
for other people, as our eyes confirm
every day. But the human mind is
a deeply selfish thing, it acknowledges
and feels empathy for others' towering
suffering, yet summits every day
the peaks of its own lesser losses.
3
Would it be better not to remember,
have scars cover and stop the bleeding,
get out of the net of remembering,
and build something modest of what
remains, live, and think oneself happy?
Surely it would be, some other people
that would be the healing medicine.
But as much as it wrecks these latter
days, how could we be ourselves
and not to remember and regret?
23.06.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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