Without warning
time reels back,
returning always
over and over
to those fragments
best forgotten –
which of course
we don't forget.
A half-revealed eyebrow
in a photo, the reminiscent
shape of a stranger's shoulder,
a stray curl on a forehead ...
our lost children.
Written for Quadrille #23: curl at dVerse.
It does happen a propos of nothing...and particularly at this time of year...Subtlety is an art form. You have it in spades. It is the most effective way to express pain. Beautifully expressed.
ReplyDeleteThank you for the great compliment.
DeleteWow.. beautifully written rosemary..we never forget, even when we have forgotten.
ReplyDeleteSpot on, very strong, love the tightness and brevity. Super last line, shock value.
ReplyDeleteNice remembrance of lost children.
ReplyDeleteI guess somethings are just not meant to be forgotten. You verse was subtle and very expressive at the same time.
ReplyDeleteAnd sometimes, time (or photographs) take us back to those fragments that we try to forget, but cannot. Powerful writing, Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteYes. I so know the feeling. And I agree with Rall.
ReplyDeleteVisions that can never be forgotten - beautiful poem, Rosemary!
ReplyDeleteI love the way you ended this with such subtle impact --- the kind that shadows the reader as she leaves.
ReplyDeleteAre you really a witch, or have you been peeking over my shoulder? I was looking through photos a couple of days ago. One specific photo took my back to where I had hoped I had forgotten. You captured that perfectly. Your succinctness making the mood all the more tight.
ReplyDeleteI am really a witch, and I wasn't peeking. As a poet, I did hope to capture the universal in the personal; thank you for telling me I did.
DeleteNothing like those details reminding you of what's lost, and in some ways the child is always lost to growing up.
ReplyDeleteVery moving and touching to read Rosemary~ We never forget them ~
ReplyDelete"stray curl" on the forehead....the curl itself is "stray" or lost from its place....a beautiful image here given the subject of lost children. Beautifully written.
ReplyDeletenot a curl out of place in your very moving words
ReplyDeleteA beautiful way in which memories curl back, both of the loss and the love we still know.
ReplyDeleteYour words so true....
ReplyDeleteI love the melancholy you so artistically and beautiful encapsulated. Children are from us a part of us forever - the mind will never let us forget.
ReplyDelete"shape of a stranger's shoulder..."
ReplyDeleteoh, those shadows of our past. Wonderful, Rosemary.
Your poem made my think of my best friend's dead father. He was not a child when he died, but he was in such a state that it felt that way, to me and his son who were alone with him, aged 8-9.
ReplyDeleteYour poem really feels like a timeless tribute, one very deep and hurtful as well, like poems must be if we want to grow and learn.
This is incredibly moving, Rosemary, we never really forget.. do we?
ReplyDeleteI hadn't expected that last line. An excellent surprise, Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteMemories have a life of their own
ReplyDeleteWhat an unexpected turn! Beautifully done!
ReplyDeleteA moving and powerful piece.
ReplyDeleteto those fragments
ReplyDeletebest forgotten –
which of course
we don't forget.
Some bad moments may best be forgotten. Yet one is constantly reminded perhaps to be wary again of the bad consequences!
Hank
Indeed, those moments best forgotten are rarely forgotten.
ReplyDeleteA moving poem, Rosemary.
ReplyDeleteThose little wisps of memories that so affect us, so well captured by you. Very emotive.
ReplyDelete