Salt in the Memory

Inspired by the week three prompt of Tara Connor's "The Public Domain Poetry Project"

Photo by hosein zanbori on Unsplash

There are echoes
of disenfranchisement 
whistling a tune I forgot

isn’t a closed cased
in retrospect to the fringes
of the memories I muted

a few editions ago
in the endless conquest
of a self beyond the apex.

Train every corner inside 
of yourself to resist past
knee-jerk reactions. Pain

goes through more songs
than a millipede has legs
to scale your back at night.

By the time you've studied
the chorus to one trauma verse,
every thorn and despondent pit, 

all the goal post have shifted
and the path to a diamond
smile becomes labyrinthine.  

Day begins when you can look
forward without a concern
for what remains in the night.

Yet the people left behind
In forgotten yesterdays, 
rudderless, must be heard.

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Week 3

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