For In Time To Remind

I always walk
on the broken step, the
others all avoid it,
I walk on it
to remember.
~Barney F. McClelland

Forgetfulness is an easy choice. Some memories are best forgotten. Buried deep down they are safe and far from bothering me again. Yet I cling on to some not because I want to savour or treasure them but for a careful remembrance. Each time I face it there’s comfort in knowing that I won’t be doing that same thing again. Why do I do that even when I know that it chips off a part of me? I’m not eccentric and am not insane either yet some blunders or mishaps are worth retaining. It doesn’t hamper my present activities, never deviates or confuses me or dulls my senses but it does add a hint of forbearance and savoir-faire. 

Letters you gave me I kept

Tore them apart in my eyes

No longer have they smelt sweet

Reeked of rot and lost trust

Forget I must

Never saw them again

Not with these eyes, but

Sometimes I recall all those lines

Which you wrote me in my primes

In scribbled gibberish

I could hear your rummy voice

They were destined to be ashes

Forgotten inks, pages in stasis

I kept those forgotten pages

For half-remembrances

For in time to remind.