spirit

we lost bits of ourselves
when we lose others.

those jars of memories
now broken, mute clay.

there are things i don’t know
that others knew of me.

and it was never shared,
buried with the bodies and time.

how much we lose
when we close the coffins.

how do i know who i was
when i was younger and naive?

if we’d just spoken.
if you’d just shared those pages
from the journal of your life.
i might know myself better.

but with each passing
we grow smaller.
less of ourselves is known.
more of us is lost.

until at last we are adrift.
buoys without anchor.
tossed upon the tumultuous seas.
all direction lost.

tell me who i was
when i didn’t know myself.

tell me before you leave.
let me glimpse behind the curtain.
see me from your wise eyes.

or everything i know
is make believe… lies.
just as everything…
dies.

annus horribilis