The Keeper
By Ann Chiappetta
You ask me to hold the secrets
Put the stories away
You must think me the mental Equivalent of Fort Knox
Accepting your dark treasure
denser than gold and so heavy you can’t move it.
So heavy even Atlas couldn’t bear it.
Locked up until the next time we meet.
the tales told are soul-stealing
corrosive
Seductive as nails down your back.
I think you stay in those stories,
beCause it’s easier than saying goodbye.
Part of you lives on in them
While within the same stories,
You hold on to the part that died.
December 2010
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life, writing and dogs
1 comment:
Anniebird, I was so moved by both your PTSD POEM and your essay "What I Want to Remember." As a visual thinker, I'm particularly impressed with the way you meld emotion and imagery so vividly. I could really identify with our example of how your mind cues up the images of the sounds you hear. Great posts, Annie!
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