Maiden Memory. An Alternate Version. Poem by Daniel Brick

I
In winter Maiden Memory
cannot recall the names
of frozen things. She tries
to stare through winter's
disguises but everything
is alien and out of place.
'They seem happy to sleep, '
she says, but doesn't believe
it. So she wanders over the
wide glacier, down corridors
of ice, past snow mountains,
searching for some place
of warmth. 'I know it's Here
or There or in-between Here
and There'... She does not
complain or panic, even fear
has no impact. But she is soon
bored with this still, empty,
colorless landscape. She wants
warmth, brightness, movement!
She is briefly heartened when
a shaft of light pierces the gray
pall above and promises many forms
of illumination to come. 'Mother,
can I leave this place now? '

II
The whole time I watched
that spoiled brat who makes
of Spring a season of her
own devising: warm, gentle
rains, all day soft sunlight,
all night cool fragrant gardens.
Human beings, awakened from their
winter spell, slowly come alive
to spring's spell. They are
content and controlled by their
happiness. I want this drug which
empties the mind and drains its
contents - regrets, worries, aches,
worries. etc. etc. My mind is already
filling up, thought-things assume
patterns, world-things multiply,
a traffic of ideas begins, people
imagine brightnesss even at night,
their minds are cleansed. What is
there not to like? ...
But my memory is long. I trudge
through the weight of time,
carrying baggage that won't stay
put but drags itself behind me,
even if I try to abandon it.
Sometimes I feel all bent and
broken, but still must drag
it all or hoist it over my shoulders
like a hunchback.Such is my fate
from my long memory. I am haunted
by the edges of space and the curves
of time. Oh, how I want to know
your leaping freedom! 'Mother,
can I stay here forever? '