Thursday, September 12, 2013

Stains

I wish that I could remember what I remember,
rather than what I've heard;
but words have set up shop in my brain
and stain all of my recollections

with suggestions
of other people's truths.

12 comments:

Mary said...

I know exactly what you mean!!

Kerry O'Connor said...

We must guard against this at all costs.

Margaret said...

...sounds like family secrets
covered up...

This, of course, could lead to so many conclusions, as good poetry does. Awesome poem.

Brian Miller said...

oo sharp little quip there in the end....our lives are full of other peoples truths...so much we sometimes forget our own...

Fireblossom said...

I agree with Kerry. I spent years and years unraveling the family myth, so i could get to how I really felt about it all.

Heaven said...

Stained words by others, I know what you also refer too ~ This is lovely MZ ~

hedgewitch said...

I've gotten to the point where I can't remember if my own stories about past things are accurate anymore, or just stuff I've repeated because I wanted to see it that way. It's insidious.

Barb said...

Such truth in your poem - all is up for interpretation.

Brian Miller said...

oo sharp little quip there in the end....our lives are full of other peoples truths...so much we sometimes forget our own...

Lorraine said...

You got that right, sometimes we're so used to hearing about something that is considered a fundamental 'truth' we don't question it...until something clicks, i like this very much

Alice Audrey said...

Mine, too. I read my diary and am amazed.

Outlawyer said...

Wonderfully distilled. The line breaks here are especially artful, I thought. Thanks, MZ. k. (Manicddaily)