Remembering
Remembering
I forget if my feet have ever known
the soil
Its friendly clamminess sticks
strangely to the edges
of my toes
Should I walk on tippy toes
to save the dignity of my
precious, precocious feet?
When did the forgetting start?
It’s a numbing
long time ago
Slowly, maybe quickly
I can’t remember between advertisements,
buying,
the TV, stuff
My memory’s crammed
and I can’t think.
The path between the trees
winds out its smile to me
Sunlight plays hide ‘n’ seek
with the leaves
polka dot skirts
and muddy socks
tug at my thoughts
The creek
trickles down the
back of my neck
as I remember to lay down
to listen to the water lapping
in my ears.
my toes unclench
memories call out
Anzac Day 2010
ANZAC Day had a profound effect on me again this year. I find the ceremonies are emotional, uncomfortable events and I am always sad and struggle for days afterwards, quietly desperate and with a hollow feeling in my stomach.
George
He ran towards me and nothing, it seemed, could prevent him from reaching my outstretched arms.
