memory motion becoming

echoes of yesterday 

live between our fingers 

await the dawn
beneath the silent key 

we trace the pulse 

that guides the way
in mirrors cracked from loss 

our dreams take shape 

and come undone

 

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Memory motion...I often feel like that is how I do poetry...just motion, memory of where the keys are, and a pulse that beats as poems take shape. I could look into the mirror and see that my fingers are moving but I don't even know what I am writing...but often I write about yesterdays, so they must live between fingers.
Wow, this poem expresses so much.
love it.
j.

[redd Brick Keshner]

I find that many poems do come to us this way, while a few require some coaxing.🕊🙏🏻

[.]

Does learning from the past guide the future? Maybe I should take the past a little more seriously. Having it tangled between my fingers reminds me to keep a diary. Maybe I'll have a guide. This is a beautiful and meaningful poem, I can interpret it in any way and shape it to my own and come undone:)

[redd Brick Keshner]

Thanks Beren, the enigma of our being does radiate even through the passing of time and language, humans can be superbly interesting if we deeply care. Most appreciated as always 🙏🏻🕊

[Neha agrawal]

It feels like memory trying to find form, or grief folding into hope. Quietly powerful.

[redd Brick Keshner]

Thank you Neha, that’s an excellent way of putting it!🙏🏻🕊🙏🏻

[John the Baptist]

Life does have a tendency to come undone at times, thus the "mirrors cracked from loss" of the poem. Still, we continue to "await the dawn." It is well that we do so, for to give up is to begin to die.

[redd Brick Keshner]

I like this! Brings the poem to its centre. Thank you so much 🕊🙏🏻