Forget Me Not

Out here 

I learn the music. 

A tone too awful to undo

and too lovely to begin. 

I have to learn to read it 

before I can play it

—that’s the hardest part for me. 


All the tragic notes

linger on my eyes. 

Like a warm breath does

introducing itself  

to cold air for the first time. 

All the sounds and reasons and lament 

of the dark songs—

I know them—

by heart. 


I want to know the Light melodies;

I want them filling to the brim 

of my rib cage, humming 

so that every

brisk breath I get to tale sings

a song

slow enough

for me to taste;


and honey

and Hope. 

 Like that warm breath showing up into cold air. 


I want the Son’s tunes

stuck in my head

so that when you see me,

you hit replay,

and I can play them back for you; 


Remembering the tragic songs

and forgetting them too. 




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