Catacombs of Memory
A poem of memory scattered in the present
This place is a lie Catacomb memory a blade of grass in December snow Under a hard land A cold land proliferating Darkness-like burrowing owls In twilight — fearing the howling of truth in a godless place.
Orange lights splatter across golden grass swaying. Yet I think of you I think of what I lost in dusty days when I was a child playing make-believe. But now it’s real The dead don’t come back casket beds and urn tears Those friends are gone, don’t Return to green shores.
We had dreams, but where Do these reside now? Those attenuated hopes Those forgetful reminisces I wish I could go back Turn the clocks of the cosmos around Do it all again. Yet I wouldn’t Destroy the universe for sorrow I wouldn’t destroy myself Because I tremble at night waiting for you to return home.
These streets are a scythe To easy for one to flee To get addicted to the journey all the beauty in decay Lost in the echoes Forgotten in the shadows.
Do you remember When we fed the ducks At Pioneers Park and laughed As the dog jumped into The lake? How he swam How he wanted barking at strangers in the water How the fall sun did shake Beauty off the trees Into our hair like crystal dreams.
© Bradley J Nordell 2022
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