A Memory Trigger.
A memory trigger.
***
Relief, as the music begins, weaving its way through tightly knotted ventricles,
lightly, lightly, the heart is released,
as light as the lavender drifting between the narrow walls of this –
A reminder of days long gone. Cold days, days we hunkered beneath thick quilts, a candle burning into the early evening, the sky dark, darker than black,
again, the same lavender drifting between narrow walls of this –
History always repeats itself. We remain, the characters,
indefinitely changed by the slow-moving hands of time –
Moments of lightness, then, moments that came and went, but the best, and sometimes, the hardest moments came as the sky turned dark, darker than black,
and just like that, a memory trigger –
Of warm hands, of the comforting smell of cigarette smoke, of music that made me catch my breath once, twice, of warmer hearts, of a single burning lamp,
of persons who existed just so, just then, and then,
History always repeats itself. We remain, the characters,
who leave time behind, and move on, on, on.