Destructive Memories

memories are ecstasies
when the come in cascades
we become flooded
every nook becomes water
and there is no escaping
only splashing into its flashes
of fluidity, and we tremble since
of them are horrifying and we
fall short of words to describe
how we are feeling again
like a shudder, a rudder with a
broken tip, a tipsy boat
failing paddles, lighthouse
turning off when the storm
rages on

somehow i end it with
'i'm ok' i have long prepared
for this, and this cannot
touch me anymore
it does not own me and
i have nothing to brag.

i take control, i let my mind
wander like a fog on those
rugged hills.

by RIC BASTASA

Comments (3)

Oh wow, what an absolutely stunning picture you offer up. The dreams of kings and queens could in no way give more splendor than these fine words. A nearly perfect poem... in my humble opinion. A scale of 10 does not do it justice.
I love this poem! The seasons with their human-like traits! Yes September is just enough relief, but not too much of anything to steal away hope and belief like the dead of winter can. Just Beautiful.
Beautiful, perfect, lovely: ,)