06 March 2009


When life looms indecipherable,
the fire raging in the attic
fueled by a lifetime of memories
like a half-forgotten diary bundled
in an old travel trunk, sends up
into the ember-streaked night

charred diary pages of worry
rising on updrafts of chance
escaping on determined winds
and then drifting down

into a wasteland of recovery
where you can find

the charred pages of worry
lying in an improbable oasis

of open-eyed optimism.

Recalling the fire in the attic

and reading the script of memories
in the newfound diary spaces,
a healing life, a renewed life,
can be written on the blank pages
that are yet scorched at the edges
by the already lived embered life

smoldering and openly remembered.

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