Fragments

For the chain poem circle

Sorting through what’s left behind, finding the past in the smallest things; Image created by Liora Writes using AI

Scraps of stuff
I sort in tubs.
Taking them out
one by one…

cover my bed
with them instead.
Lost in memory—
not to run.

What’s this here?
Extract my fear—
driven in deep
while so young.

Digging deeper,
trapper keeper,
full of photos—
times far-flung.

Smiled through my tears,
reliving years.
Each snap precious—
held so close.

Lost there a while,
held it and smiled.
Then looked inside
at my ghosts.

Old shaving cup,
still with a lump
of Old Spice soap
down in there.

Even better—
Cowboys’ sweater,
he used to wear
everywhere.

I could spend days
caught in this maze:
memories of
my lost ones.

But I must close,
it’s time I rose.
Face now this life
and what comes.

Author’s Note:

I will eventually take the picture that goes with this post. Not today.
Today, it’s enough to write about it. Be well, my friends. — Liora

Thanks for reading this poem. If my work here speaks to you and you’d like to support it:
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– Grab my chapbook — Through the Fire, Vol. I is out now on Amazon, premium print + digital.

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