Forgetting is Not about Memories

I close my eyes tight to
stop my brain, it works for
a moment, a crunched silence
into which the darkness melts. A
friend is kind, sends me a recording
of ocean sounds, to
soothe, to
overwrite, kind but stupid. It works for
a moment, a serendipitous seashore in
absentia, leaving sand in my mouth, tracing
water down your bare skin.
Forgetting is not
about memories, not
about time, not
about replacement, not
about piecing a broken heart together
with wistful, melancholic verse, not
about staring long and hard at an
unmoving horizon. Forgetting is to
pretend, to
pretend the moon does not feel cold
as it kneels within you, to
pretend the colours of dawn
don’t seep through your joined
palms, forgetting is to
pretend you are not
holding your breath, waiting,
praying.
Ask the ocean.

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54 thoughts on “Forgetting is Not about Memories

  1. Wow, wow, wow! ❤ This is beyond beautiful Rajani! Especially love; “Forgetting is to pretend the moon does not feel cold as it kneels within you, to
    pretend the colours of dawn don’t seep through your joined palms.” 😊

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The ache tinged with a bit of bitterness is nicely done here. You can almost see the subject smile at the well-meaning friend, frown when the friend leaves, and then fall down weeping, knowing that whatever it is they will try will just be one more futile attempt at pretending nothing is going on.

    Like

  3. “Forgetting is to/pretend, to/pretend the moon does not feel cold/as it kneels within you…”
    That resonates with me; forgetting is pretension of many kinds, to find some solace in depravity, some comfort in loneliness. A rich, emotive write with a lovely closing. Ask the ocean indeed, which exemplifies all kinds of loss.
    -HA

    Like

  4. This is amazing.
    I especially like your jarring line breaks.

    This is my favorite line,
    and current life philosophy:
    “pretend you are not”

    Like

  5. A beautiful look at a frustrating thing. The serendipitous, absentia line is fantastic. We have all been here and getting the mind to shut down can be damn near impossible. Great write!

    Like

  6. I would end up pulling just about the entire poem here, for the strength within the word phrases;

    the use of the repetition:” it’s not about” really lifts the listing into a cadence, a pace, that begins with the “generalities” within the list, which then just totally impacts the specifics – which is where the whole stellar phrasing really soars. Combined, this is just such an incredible piece, it really carries weight for the entire impact – and it contains just the right amount of anger, edge, pain and grief; the sorrow at loss, but also, my reading, by the time I come to the ending, is also of a “well earned lesson” in wisdom – and understanding, which leads, eventually to “knowing.” And yet, the ending also offers that ever so delicate, small “waiting” nonetheless.

    And finally, I really like – actually love – the last line. It totally seals the deal on this wonderful poem.

    Like

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