Forgotten & Remembered
I used to brave the dark hanging on to a candle’s spark. Armed with a jar left ajar - I lit a candle and hid it from the wind. I embraced the shadow hanging low like a tempo flowing through the night’s sky falling behind the trees swaying in peace any way they please. I found comfort fading in the background avoiding all that’s around. I distanced myself unaware I lived on a shelf. It was not until light bowed to the shadow that I began to follow how pain ingrained sorrow. My mind was pulled down by the weight of my eyes waning survival’s strain. Cowering in the dark to avoid what’s stark I never got far. I was a dying star that fell before the sun even went down. I was a Martian shunned & forgotten. At least that’s what I thought being trapped in a past that never passed. But then I was given a flame kindled by a voided anger that hollered how lame it was to have disdain having seen that all I’ve sown were losses of my own. I shimmered in the wind as my soul shivered from anguish’s fangs barred to feed on my barren heart. Instead of feeding off the night to feel alright, I was racing the light to feed hurt before truth’s dawn. I realized I didn’t need a candle to see. My candle had melted and burned my broken soul when this jar broke. Covered in soot and tar I covered my scar deep in my heart. I thought I could ward the hurt with just my hand but all I did was shiver in the wind. I became the flame at the mercy of a broken jar blown to pieces in the wind. My light flickered as the wind snickered- at my memories and thoughts; guilty of wanting more in this life. Bigger was surely better though not sugary enough to erase trials’ bitter daze. Last night, I got older, but not wiser. All it took was a card I read to feel better. The envelope made my heart elope With happy thoughts that weren’t a trope. Suddenly, I realized it wasn’t not so dark afterall, because my heart knows- tomorrow will swoop down on me like a lark. I still hold my candle and fold- all I used to think I could handle- forgetfulness’ comfort as a mess of my own. It is easy to think you’ve been forgotten until you’re shown how you’re remembered. It hurts to realize acceptance needs eyes. Eyes, that can dilate and constrict To the glare of a candle’s flare. You can be sure, you must endure If you want to see through the night’s velour. Kindness is a gesture with a curious texture though not a fixture made to fit into a picture. But I guess you get the picture: being remembered beats being forgotten. Today & Tomorrow Time is my beauty blender as I continue to blunder. Duty is it’s biggest contender & I it’s greatest offender. I strive to conceal what I hope time does not reveal. I mix and match hoping to patch gaps I catch. But everything I set aside seems to miss tide. So, I hide behind a divide of pride and chide. Youth may have left me with creases Even the best concealer can’t conceal, a reminder that Some things you can’t get back, a Testament of life’s bustling track. Everything I’ve done so far Reaffirms my fears of reveling in a Darkness that dances my nonchalant Agony under indecision’s sun; until Yesterday when I held tomorrow’s waist from today’s waste. I tried to plan but all I did was prove I had no clue. I danced my todo around what I must do- trying to undo what’s gotten through. Still, I didn’t make due; nothing new. So, I rolled in care’s soot hoping to sooth- myself but I woke up in a pyre of ire. My fears crackled like timbers trying to tackle- fires from losses piled on my plate ready to state: my conscience is ready to chide my mind with procrastination’s antics in concentric circles for delays and lame excuses that shift duty’s centers to realign my situational circles into tangent circles tangent at loss and regret. Tightening my belt around burden’s pelt Offered me the choice to feel heavy with regrets or Divide my attention between wearing a guise that Accosted my desire to live with apathy’s ice or Yield clarity to scorch lies’ timbers with courage. Trust in destiny, I tried telling myself. Of course, I knew I was off course My heart stinks with ire charting tragedy Offering to sting my mind with fire. Realizing my heart was sinking Really quick under my mind’s apathy, I Opted to let go of sorrow because Wishing and willing are two different things. Bio: Pasithea is an impressionist poet who dabbles in art and poetry. She enjoys writing about life and her experiences from different perspectives. She believes in art in poetry as in exploring art to emphasize its role in juicing creativity out of a quill. She enjoys writing poetry in symbolism laced with philosophy and psychology. Combined with varied styles and topics, her motto will always be: poetry is a passionate expression kindled by an impression unlimited by public conviction. To catch more of her work follow her on Instagram @pasitheachan or twitter @pasitheachan and on Ello @ello.co/pasitheaanimalibera where you can find more of her historical fiction and mythological or cultural short stories. A Fevers of the Mind Quick-9 Interview with Pasithea Chan Poetry Showcase from Pasithea Chan #stopthehate challenge poem by Pasithea Chan : Able & Sable Hearts in Color & Deed
Fevers of the Mind 