Thoughts in an early winter dawn

a self that needs to be remembered
so as to be invited back
again
the things
I have left behind
scattered parts of
me
for what self derived
intent

a black yoga mat that is casted with my imprint
a black velvet scarf
a box of oatmeal
left behind with and without intention,
without asking
for what
a sky blue specked mug
that fits in the palm
of only
my hand
a Gene Corbet print of a
woman reclining
tickets to the opera
parts of myself fragments,fractured,scattered
in the guise of
generosity
one should
not force the creation
of a memory
one can not force
attachment
by a
wish to be acknowledged

beneficence
not just the bargain
we make only with ourselves
to be known outside
the borders of our
skin
I want to collect the pieces of
myself
that i have left
asunder

the only
that remains is beyond
my control
is that of
vague colors, images , tone,sounds,impressions
reflections
that ebb in the crevices of
memory
time

that which I can not
nor wish not to
control
i want to
collect that which I
have left behind randomly
having
expected something
in return
conjured up by
what i left behind
i want all of
me
whole
now

by Rhiannon 1/25/2011