Prose/Poetry: Memory

I was in Chuy and Kiko Eatery when this happened. From Pablo C. Bueno’s wake. Dated 11 March 2012 from my pocket journal, unedited. 


One

The Eternal Adoration
A million steps and a thousand falls are etched onto the skin 
of these floors and walls. Each gentler and rough step, or hesitant 
footfall (your first step, your last) is recorded by the shifting dust
and the nanoscopic press and release of (surface) molecules. 
This is your home, your house. Your eternal witness. 

And I see the walls now, and I wonder. Have they seen your 
dramatic years, your shouting visage, your skin-raising fears? 
Did they tremble at your fist, or did they stand firm as your knuckles bled. 
I wonder--

Even more. Does your home miss you? This piece of land soaked in 
generations of blood and family and history. Will the earth weep 
for you? 

Or does it ignore you, as unfamiliar walls will? Will you be 
another memory, something to laugh at or weep, to shake one's 
head at when the urge to reminiscence grows deep? Families forget, 
lovers recover. Will you be the ghost that fondly haunts their halls 
-a wisp? Until new generations rise and you are, finally, 
forgotten. 

But perhaps this "home" stands different. These old frames and 
worn-out seats have seen you, have borne you from darkness and 
have loved you. Your very nature has been embedded onto these halls. 
And concrete and steel will last longer than the hearts of 
grieving men, so quick to forget. These foundations are meant to 
last, built to protect, to shelter and defend --all that has 
passed, all that is passing, all that will pass. 

And so, your blood and bones may turn to dust, your body may leave 
and fly, but the walls of this place (your true confidant), the 
ground at your feet (your first bearer) will echo your name, your 
spirit.

Forever. 

Two

Vintage
Green and white ruffles
A seat and a thousand words
The laughter of your friends
tables and cables away
These are the things you will forget. 

What you'll recall is this
Your non-smile
The persons next to you
The style of your dress and
the shape of the table
(because the picture is black and white

and I can't remember anything else).

Four

Occasion
The guestbook holds no positive reviews.
Five, Six, Seven
Haikus on loneliness
Her eyes are searching
this gray world for color
She does not understand. 
.
No. Yes. No. Maybe. 
They cannot (and won't) decide
And yet (they just did). 
.
Immobility
commands and tears my body
All this hurt, unsaid. 

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