It's Friday night. A number of these weekends, I have not submitted any posts and that's neither here, nor there. When I began writing as a child (>40 yrs ago), I set a goal of one poem a day. Some were ok, most were just exercises in rhyming, but it was kind of a hobby. Now, I'm trying to blog every day, but in the event that I do not, I'll make up on the days I blog more than once. Sounds reasonable, for a compulsion.
Perhaps because of some recent entries /poems that chronicled contact with persons who had suffered greatly, I became more aware of what was happening to me as I recalled those events. Sometimes, even the more humorous poems, strike painful memories. It was just my attempt at the time of the experience, to find a "funny" way to cope with stress, and a calamity of suffering and pain.
This brings along an absolutely fresh new poem.

The Remembering

I wrote about painful experiences
Now, nearly 12 years past,
The memories are still picture-vivid
They stuck with me so very fast,
I wrote a collection of stories
In a predictable pattern of rhyme,
As I present them again to the world
Pain revisits me each single time.

The rereading sparks the remembering
Each story I clearly recall,
I laugh a lot, yes, it is true
But hidden, 'neath the sum of it all,
There is a memory of suffering I own
Within the context of my partnership of care,
So as I collate, collect and exhibit
The pain reminds me; indeed, I was there.

Fibril_late; 10/06/06