by Jane Eliza

Created on: October 14, 2008

Memory's Muse.

The inner poet calls us when our heart will not look in
We read a word from someone's soul
We feel their lifetime's pain and joy
and deeper delve, all unaware
that Memories are lurking there.

You take a peek, choose one you know
Put pen to paper, feel the glow as Memory's life
begins to grow.
The words they form, they are their own.

And suddenly the glow grows dark.
Memory sharpens, hones itself:
Targets feelings open, stark.
The pain grows deep, seeps round my heart

I read it back, this poem I wrote
The pain, so old, is in the words.
Too hard to lift it off my heart
too hard to disconnect the shame

I seek out other memories:
(the happy ones - I know they're there)
yet once again behind the smile
a sneer is lurking all the while:
the path they lead me down the same.

And so I choose to leave these words
All hidden deep in Memory's den
Until I find the strength of heart
to call them forth to tell their tales

and shed light on their Muse.

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