Memory
(F. Devatine)
Memory
returns to me, surprises me with the curve of a word, of an image, of a smell,
of a route.
Noise of
water, undertow of fear,
The calls of cocks, cries of birds,
Purrings of a motor circling the lagoon!
Memory
rising without warning submerges me.
But then it
soars high in the sky, like the hours of twilight; letting it fly, I
internalize these reclaimed memories!
Memory knows
that I track it in the dark hours of stormy days and rising tides,
Just as I
know there was a time she demanded my attention,suffering, crying,
narcissistically pulling me into her melancholy.
Memory of
the lonely one who, at the end of the day, lays claim to what remains, finds it
in the yellow and emerald-green interstices in the midst of grey-blue clouds
tinted rose.
Words born
of polynesian traditional poetry and the ancient art of tahitian poem-songs.
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