in the museum i search for luxury
something whole, not yet evaporated
like the narrow streets of my memory.
outside my window a newspaper flutters
flipping its pages into the wind
like a witch's spell forgetting to close.
in some corner i find myself
unfolding, returning to the place
i left whole / eons ago.
I know the feeling, Helen. I believe the Portuguese call it saudade.
ReplyDeleteMemory's like that, a return to "something whole, not yet evaporated," pursued like a newspaper in the wind, and I love that image of persona "unfolding" to that place of "return," not yet closed. How beautiful, Helen. My heart was beating in response to your words.
ReplyDeleteDearest Helen,
ReplyDeleteThe memories of our soul never ever will evaporate!
Hugs,
Mariette
Beautiful. Your words take me right there!
ReplyDeleteI hope you can be re-folded - I love the dreamy nature of the feeling unfolding has in your words..like unspooling silk
ReplyDeleteI love the idea of remembering being an unfolding of the mind and heart. This is gorgeous Helen!
ReplyDelete