Safely tucked away in my hiding place, the hallway,

I spend the day, dry and protected.

Perhaps she forgot me again,

After all it’s only windy outside.

 

It’s lonely here, separated from her.

 

Letting go of what we do not have may the hardest of all,

For desire fuels both dark and light.

It is both a sword and the wound it inflicts,

Yet appears impossible to drop.

 

The for the mind and the blackness in our heart may hold us stronger than we think,

Even locked up safely, in the hold of innermost thoughts and places;

For this is a dangerous place, where the cargo cannot be seen, but is felt in all the ships movement,

And will keep the ship listing when we take on water, sinking us faster in a storm.

 

Inner peace is not found by searching for what cannot be fulfilled,

But savoring what is already present.

I remember the evening we first met,

You, fresh from the butchers, filled with the aroma of a life just lost,

Now here to give me pleasure and comfort.

Me, surrounded by a smiling family, encouraging our relationship.

 

The bone was my not my first, but you were great.

Cast out by humans, who did not consider you worthy,

But to me you were a prize, a friend, the precious essence of another …

Now embodied in food, extending my personality, something I could hold … it seemed forever.

 

Now, I remember all the bones.

The smaller ones, delicate and easier to crunch, which I eventually consumed.

Large bones, indestructible and awkward to carry were fun;

However, you lasted, and were loaded with the extra reward of marrow for persistence.

 

This bone, neither large or small, given on summer’s eve, was my favorite.

I should bury you. Along with all the other bones.

Don’t dismiss it, relegate it to the place we know does not exist;

The land of forgotten bad memories.

I tried to stuff all those along with the dog that bit me, my first firing, and what I thought was a love lost.

But like a Golden Retriever, my enthusiastic memory just keeps working; putting them to the front of the line again.

 

Forgetfulness is deemed a failing,

A failing of love; a failing to remember;

A failing to please; a failing … except

Those memories we want to erase forever.

 

The memories are not the problem; it is my ability to process them, to understand, to find the love in them,

It’s in there somewhere, hidden in the corner we know as forgiveness.

And there we will find ourselves, and the clue to understanding all.

Standing alone in the corner, the one who awaits all. Love.