Remembering

Sad poem

Crouching in the nettle patch

I remember

It's a sweet memory

She's squatting bare handed

Breathing, and picking

I remember

I offered her gloves but she wanted to pick as I pick

Bare handed

She breathed

Pain never meant much

Less than life

Less than love

She never minded pain

She told me this pain shivered across her skin like the tattoo written on her back.

The nature spirit who met my eyes as I asked “Does that hurt?”

And she would say

“Yes”

“But my pain is small next to your pleasure.”

And the woods would echo with our breath

As we breathed and hurt

Picking stinging nettle bare handed.

I remember.

Someone came and stole the discarded gloves

(My girlfriend's gloves)

As we sat curled together sipping peppermint tea from my thermos

And kissing peppermint kisses

Both knowing that peppermint and nettle are different families

Even though they look alike.

Crouching in the nettle patch

I remember

And it's a sad memory

I've never had another woman who picks nettles bare handed

And this memory is not one I walk often.

I can think through the breakup without sorrow now.

And I've met that nature spirit's eyes a hundred times in my mind

But seeing her here, squatting in my nettle patch.

It hurts.

Crouching in the nettle patch

I remember

And pick at the memory like you pick at a half healed scab

And watch and wonder as blood flows because you thought that wound was only a dull ache

And you wonder how many years it's been.

Nettle stings sing of pleasure now, but it's not my fingers hurting.

I breathe

And try to pretend that she's dead and not out there caring like you know she cares.

I remember

How she used to tell me about Liam

She spoke of him with infinite compassion.

The woman who could pick nettles bare handed

Who’s pain mattered less than pleasure.

She feels the pain of everyone she's loved

Just as I do.

And even as I have struggled to let the memories scar

And even as I can think about her without getting sad anymore

And even as I crouch in the nettle patch

Picking nettles bare handed

And remembering

There is one thing I still cannot remember.

I cannot remember that she cares about me.

That she describes me to her boyfriend with compassionate eyes.

I cannot remember that something like her

Can love me

And still leave me remembering.

Reviews

[Bare trees]

You are obviously a poet. You have chosen each word carefully with clear images in your words. I really enjoyed this and your style very much so.

And please, my story is not for the faint hearted so there's no need to return the favor.

[Scerina Elizabeth]

Beautiful Poem & Beautifully Written