I
Write
To Remember...
Or
To Forget...
Or
Both.

I sit with a secret
I sleep with it
walk with it
Its presence more pronounced
when I am alone with it
Me and it
silent about each other
our deadly omertà

I need to let someone in on it
in on the secret
maybe a doctor
or a healer of sorts
maybe
just
maybe
I might just survive it.

To Death:
Drought
or
Floods.

May the space between
where I am when I’m
alone

and where I am when I’m
with you

be the ground in which
we can plant the seeds

of forgiveness