Theater of Forgetting
Once you’ve divvied up the big ones, you throw the rest away
but harbor the wish that you could shed more
Than the gray objects you have before you,
If only you could lose yourself and all you’ve made:
Remember the time when the trees were still bare,
And you and I talked all night on the brown sand,
and slept beside the lake when we were young.
So close your eyes, as if you were an actor,
And imagine a pond with a few brown leaves,
a sky that is different than the one you see now,
the pond not reflecting all that you know
nor the calm brown pear you wish you could be,
In order to escape the past that keeps on floating by,
Imagine brown leaves; the bare, gray sky.
– Pia Marrella Cisternino