Raw Earth Ink
spit, mixed with dirt – muddy words flow
Box of Memories
Lowering myself to the edge of the bed
I clutched the small box to my chest
Afraid to look inside
Afraid not to
It had been given to me
Both a curse and then a gift
With a trembling grip I lifted its lid
Stared inside at the contents
Carefully fingering each item within
A story swirling coalesced in my mind
Slowly began to unfold before my very eyes
To write it down for others
Or keep it to myself remains yet to be seen
For now I tenderly replaced the lid
Tears silently falling
Their presence my only witness
©️tara caribou – 2018
26 Comments on “Box of Memories”
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Raw Earth Ink 
Deep a different 😍
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This is a good piece. I like the end. Tears are often the only witness. Great work.
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Thank you. This time of year is always hard for me as the anniversary of the death of my son approaches.
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I didn’t know you had a son who passed away. I am sorry.
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A lot of times, if I’m writing about grief, that’s what I’m writing about, yes. In a few days it will be seven years that I held him in my arms as he died. Most impactful day of my life.
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Damn, I’m so sorry to hear that.
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Thank you for the kind words. He has made me a better person and for that I am grateful. But losing a child is a bitter pill to swallow. Hug that little girl of yours next chance you get, okay?
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Of course, I don’t know how not to hug her.
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That is horrific. I’m truly sorry, hun.
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Thanks T. ))hugs((
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Heartfelt and to the point without a lot of explanation. I hope writing about it, expressing it in that way helps, heals.
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Thank you
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This is different, enjoyed it!
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Thank you! I’m so happy you did.
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Welcome!
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Can I ask a question, though? Did you like it BECAUSE it was different or you liked it AND it was different?
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It’s different from what you normally write, but besides it being different I liked it.
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I see.
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I like variety! 😉
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I’m sure you do…
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I’m mostly a one-track mind, myself. I’ll let you figure what track that is.
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I am sadly one tracked as well, lol
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lol – I get it, man.
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Nothing like your own stash of your life, I had my poems hidden away 17 till 34 it felt good to show them to strangers
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I agree with you there.
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