Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Memory II

Well sometimes I do still think about it though I’m not supposed to. Sometimes when I’m alone, sometimes when I’m in waiting rooms of offices before I’m ushered in, home alone when I have come too early and there is no electricity so there is nothing for me to do but sit in the dark, I do still think about it. Sometimes. I know I shouldn’t. Now, after all these years, all this time, after all the distance of the journeys we have traveled, I shouldn’t be thinking about it anymore. But I do.

I cannot put away the memory or pretend that I do not remember. I cannot see you and not flinch because to see you is to bring it all back so vividly I’m afraid I can barely stand up when you’re near. Your eyes implore but I cannot help myself, I remember, I’m cursed with never forgetting, there is nothing I can do, I still think about it.

I have grown and you have grown, we’re men now. But in my mind we are still boys and in my memories we are still playing hide-and-seek, children in an unharvested June Maize field, laughing, darting between the stalks, that month is here again, that day is here again, it’s been so many years, you drink on this night, drink till you are picked by her from your kafunda, but I remember and I know you remember. We cannot forget, we cannot run. We were children, running was not in us.

Of all the things I have seen, sights beheld, views been before my eyes, only this remains when all else has faded or I cannot clearly recall whether the strap of his bag over his shoulder or running from under his armpit, whether the bag was black or it was leather brown; that I still remember, in vivid detail.

I remember the smells, I remember the sweat and the thirst that was forming in my mouth, I remember the throbbing on my left cheek from where a blade of a maize leaf had cut me, I remember I remember the turn of your neck running not looking where you were going to gauge how far behind I was you, I remember the joyful taunt in your voice, I remember the soil sticky and drying between my toes, I remember everything…

I remember this…

10 comments:

Dorian said...

so many things are said, about the mark of a great writer. you, sir, are a great writer. with your ability to string words together like this, creating tone, emotion - and making one actually see events as they happen. you should write a book. i salute you

Tandra said...

Dorian said it all and he said it well!

The Pseudo-Independent said...

hey my good friend thanks for stopping and I enjoyed reading this post. Great stuff. I miss blogsville and hopefully will be back soon. Thanks again and God bless you.

ps: I agree with most of your readers. You are another great writer who may not know it!

Cheri said...

Okay, so Dorian is a he! Justified. Tandra and Dorian sitting on a tree. K.I.S.S.I.N.G....

modoathii said...

dude..like madonna in her song...i take a bow.

man you've weaved that storo like....like...i can't even compare you to anything.

what were you doing in the maize plantation...or should i be asking...

cheri, tut, tut...

(interesting your word verification is/was rilmc...read, REAL MC)

modo with mad respekt
http://modoathii.wordpress.com

Three types of Crazy said...

wow. great post

scotchbiscuits said...

never forgetting is a blessing as much as it's a curse.
grab the sweetest sweetest yesterdays and hold on to them forever.

Elle B said...

Your poems cum stories make me want to cry. I feel you deserve to be making new memories not old ones that feel your heart with longing for days of old.

You'd better right some new ones which are in present tense or else....

Amit said...

Memories can be blessing or a curse, and in some strange situations both a blessing and a curse.

Even the dark, unpleasant ones, should not be ignored, they are part and parcel of who we really are, who we become, who we will die as. Each and every event that occurs in our life shapes us, do not be afraid to think on them, where people go wrong is when they dwell on them, and allow they actions to be manipulated by them.

That is a great post.

I like your new template, but where is the cat gone.... I miss the cat.

Amit

Duksey said...

Yes where is the cat,am gona cry right now.

I hate it when i have to be last coz everyone else seems to take a pick at all my lines eeee...
great post