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Mardi May Page 2
HEART’S MEMORY
Heart does not remember what year it was; does not link it to a walk on the moon, a wedding or assassination. Heart was never very good with dates and numbers.
Heart does remember those last few words falling like stones; the weight of them landing.
It recalls the suitcase, sock dangling; does not remember the exact moment this carelessness began.
It hears again the jingle of impatient keys, the metallic click of the front door closing - that final closing! the echoing silence.
Heart still remembers the waft of aftershave lingering in the air, but whatever year it was, heart forgets.
LIFELINES
They say a life is mapped out on the palm, tracing longevity around the cushion of the thumb.
Baselines of existence, Line of the Head, Line of the Heart, a tally of children like a postscript added beyond a head’s logic, closer to the heart.
Our mirror image glimpse of the future on hands unfolding, then clapped together fate sealed
Amen.
But, there, in the face the life already lived its journey etched more finely than words.
Map of lost smiles, furrow of frowns forever disapproving, a groove left by pain its knife-edge scar creasing soft tissue, cleft in the chin, a dimple deepened by the twirl of a pen.
Emotions telling tales as clearly as waves trace their ebbing on the sand.
© Copyright, 2013,
Mardi May. |