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| @skyloverpoetry |
I remember your name, but have forgotten
who you are, and if I ever loved you
as if the faithful moon forgot to rise,
or I recalled it vaguely, from another time
but could not place it: I’d ask, Whatever
happened to that funny old moon?
It has been gone so long, I can’t picture
its face at all… But this is your face,
your voice that has faded from memory,
not the sliver of moon dwindling into blue.
A belated response to Magaly's Weekend Challenge: Strange News.
Oh yes, I have lived that forgetting of a face, that once was everything. This is wonderful, Kerry. I especially love that funny old moon!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Sherry. The daytime moon fascinates me.
Deletethe moon returns, though that voice may not. achy kind of blue, Kerry ~
ReplyDeleteSome days are like that.. achy kind of blue.
DeleteThis is incredibly raw and painstakingly honest, Kerry. ❤️ I find that one gradually forgets.. be it aformer lover's face or past woes.. all that remains is ache shaded by the blue.
ReplyDeleteThat is often a reality, especially as too much time passes by.
DeleteHow melancholic! The way you portray this loss through your words and form is wonderful, Kerry. Your poetics have such an evocative quality.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Anmol. I am always happy to hear that my poems touch an emotional chord.
DeleteThe man in the moon...I still don't remember his name, but I never forget a face! ((Especially not one as lewdly grinning as he!)
ReplyDeleteIndeed! Thanks Tim.
DeleteI love how you took the prompt... making the moon a disappearing into a metaphor of a loss you can't even place...
ReplyDeletesomehow it's even sadder when a face of someone you loved cannot be placed.
Yes... hard to imagine that a beloved face might one day fade from memory.. as difficult to imagine the sky without the moon.
DeleteI remember you, too.
ReplyDeleteLovely analogy, Kerry.
ReplyDeleteLove the metaphor of forgetting and waning. You use it very cleverly here! Also, your word choice evokes a soft feeling, like a dream I can almost remember. Thanks for posting!
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Izy. i appreciate your feedback on the imagery.
DeleteAs we get older, our pasts are populated by so many of those faces and voices, Kerry. I sometimes wonder if the past really existed and then I look in an old address book I kept from years ago and it reminds me of names of people, who I picture, and wonder what became of them. I love the way you’ve captured this in the ‘funny old moon… dwindling into blue’.
ReplyDeleteI am with you, Kim. Does the past exist? We are made up of experiences, but have no real trace of them except in selective memory.
DeleteIt's weird to think that something can take up such an enormous part of our lives, then not only is absent from our life, but it's absence is no more remarkable than any other part of our routine. I thought of girlhood crushes and what I thought was the moon in my sky turning out to be a dollar store window decal.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely.. It is quite crushing, that realization.
DeleteMany of the things I mooned over now rest in the bin of forgotten. I do try to fish one or two out once in a while, but to revisit foolish is so painful.
ReplyDeleteThe heart -- along with the body --are like a flower which opens in love to the full intimacies (and lunacies) of the moon -- drenched in that silver: But when it closes, it eventually seals off, making all that was so frenzied and real seem like a distant half forgotten dream. We so remember the opening and the closed, and this poem so reflect both.
ReplyDeleteYes, you express what I was trying to convey so well. Thank you.
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