Rim of Oblivion

A memoir slouches
on the rim of oblivion,
its title
was “never forget”.

It was written by
a wife, a mother,
who couldn’t let it go
to live
at the mercy
of its readers.

It gathers dust
untranslated,
sits as data files
multiplying.

It is remembered
by scattered
polyglot descendants
who try to see
through her eyes
what happened
that fateful night
when her daughter
accidentally
opened the door
to the enemy.

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19 thoughts on “Rim of Oblivion

  1. O, marousia…that ending! I was not prepared for that! I’m still with it, trying to imagine…and that it is a memoir, almost forgotten, makes it, of coure, all the more poignant. You…you poet you!

  2. Hmmmm..very enjoyable, wonderful..i love the way the poem opens, and then becomes a trace of her memoir, despite herself, whilst her descendants are her true memoir..of course I want to know what was there when the door opened, who was the ‘enemy’, and what happened..but perhaps that story is hard and too bleak..hmm

  3. dear marousia,

    your writing is brilliant testing my need to desperately touch upon your words, keeping me there and leading to an ending which takes me back to the beginning all over again…how your words claw at my curiosity and i am left with knowing “its title was never forgot”…to live at the mercy of your readers…how many of us hold a secret behind a closed door and you dare to open it for your readers…(once a wife and mother who couldn’t let it go)…

    your poem totally held my attention…great writing…

    sincerely,

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