No Recollection

I don’t want to remember.

Whispering in my ear will not bring back the dead
thoughts - a woman I cannot wake up.
No therapy couch memories
grown like writhing lizard limbs
in a patient file petri dish.
Sting of failure, death of love.
Could I do a cartwheel? Did I read?
Did I give birth, and hold a part
of myself, crying, in my arms?
You could tell me all these things
and give me a notion of who I once was
but you cannot give me the warmth of his lips
or a lightning strike rumbling through my veins.
I do not want to know my name,
or any fact or figure you think will solve me.
I am a person,
living off the rations of a decades-old daydream
that someone misses her, remembers her,
and is waiting for her touch to return.

Author's Note

I was her when I woke up from my seventh surgery of the summer. I was her. I was bleeding too much, I hurt, to think or to remember was pain on top of it. I didn’t want to know my name.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

My dear friend. I felt the hard thoughts and the struggle in your words.
"I am a person,
living off the rations of a decades-old daydream
that someone misses her, remembers her,
and is waiting for her touch to return."
The above lines, said everything needed. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote

[Iam-me]

Wow, quite a poem in it's the deeper you read it the deeper your held within it's grasp. Of intrigue and depth and compassion and even love of oneself. Nicely expressed.

[emipoemi]

what a way to make a return! There are a couple of line breaks at the start that I don't think work well in the poem, but holy mole!! the progression of this is divine!! You still got it, C! Well done!