Memory Made

You are the building
that makes me whole —
my upright infrastructure.
They tell me you are bone,
sing songs that this
connects to that,
but how else to explain

the mystery pain
that takes up residence
in random places?

the cache they cannot see
with their machines
or diagnose with certainty?

the telltale whispers
in my head that haunt
but never relent?

the words that break off
from aftershocks
and fall at my feet,
collected in bowls
around my house?

I pick one up and write:
this is the labyrinth,
the year of sadness,
the walk on hallowed ground,
the day we saw whales
and he loved me because
I cheered.

Poem & Photo ©2017, Jen Payne

2 thoughts on “Memory Made

  1. “the words that break off
    from old aftershocks
    and fall at my feet,”

    Stunning. I love how you don’t stop until you’ve arrived at the deepest place and known your experience. Thank you, Jen.

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