I wanted to burn my memories
that hunted me night and day.
So I collected them all from my past
And carried them down the way.
They cried for me to stop
and think before I act.
They pleaded and reasoned enormously
but I refused to consider their impact.
Placing them all in a heap
one on the other I stacked.
Now ready to bid them forever I stood
but the courage from within I lacked.
I wondered what was stopping me
from setting them all to a match.
And burning them down to ashes
of grey solitude on an inkless patch.
Not sooner I watched them with awe
as they lay limp in a pile.
It was as if I had lost them forever
though it had been only a while.
And it dawned on me that moment
it was them that made me, me.
I wouldn’t be what I am today
if my memories weren’t mine to be.
© Annadine Charles.