Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,
Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold,
Let it be forgotten for ever and ever,
Time is a kind friend, he will make us old.
If anyone asks, say it was forgotten
Long and long ago,
As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed footfall
In a long forgotten snow.
What this poem means to me....
What is past, is past, over and done with. Move on. Forget about it. This is the dogma of coping by sweeping it under the mat of the subconscious, to escape reality. For me, forgetting was a means of surviving severe childhood trauma and the betrayal and loss I’ve experienced since. Though living ‘in the past’ is not a state I advocate, a recollection of it certainly seems warranted…a measure of the days in my life that passed…for something, some reason. As I’ve matured, I’m able to remember bits and pieces. I’m taking them in and healing, with God’s grace.
