Memories Don't Hurt He Said Poem by gordon nosworthy

the old woman sat in a chair
wheels down for potential escape
a shawl wrapped around her frail shoulders
elbows firmly planted on the padded rests
feeble feet ready to spring up
jump forward
struggling to comply with his requests
as she dug carefully down
through so many years of transgressions
shuffling the cards
from top to bottom
flipping them carefully
so as not to rouse any dust and unwanted debris
recriminations
yet somehow the same narrow images
turned over to show in the hand
she dealt herself
and had been dealt

do you remember he asked
she looked up at him shyly and slyly
her smile no longer true
now a smile of concealment
at first she enjoyed the attention
at first she enjoyed the archaeology of it all
the digging up of long buried artefacts
holding up her finds for inspection
smiling at what happened
what might have happened
through what she prayed to happen

they will help you heal he said
she needed healing the old woman thought
she had a lot of years to repair
so many offences to carry
so many troubling bags to lug around with her
as she boarded the morning to escape the day
so many heavy prayers
to carry her into the night
when the remnants he demanded she conjure
sat in the chair where he had sat
troubled her nerves
distressed her thoughts
refused to allow her to rest

i enjoy talking to you he said
do inquisitors enjoy excavating
no she thought you don't
you dress in casual clothing
you should dress as the miner you are
your helpful disposition
dutifully investigates the ravages of time
page after page
object after object
to convince me i was wrong
to believe i was right
to dredge up my false memories
allow them to rape and pillage me
over again and over again
i will no longer do it
i will no longer victimize myself
what i am is what i am
no she said i cannot remember
i refuse

it is good to remember he said
the old woman heard the words
she didn't know exactly what they meant
she guessed they meant that every thought
comes with a face of light
and a face of dark
and she should release
all those memories dressed in loveliness
and congeniality
allow them to fall away
allow their collapse to reveal truths
the presence of malice and meanness
the sallow features of being ignored
the bluster of mindless rage
the unawareness of standing center stage
of the play with no real director

it's good to remember he said
the old woman did not want to nod
she nodded anyhow
behind the camouflage she cowered
remembering was simply too dangerous
pretence came with edges far less intense
leave what lays in ruin she thought
to remain in ruin
remember only that each breath
could be the end of one memory
and the beginning of another