Joe Brainard.

I promised (promised!) that I would post my weekly assignments from writing class at the end of each Wednesday. Well, I didn’t, did I? It’s Thursday now. But there’s a reason. Yesterday, our assignment was to write a poem that leads with, “I remember” at the start of each sentence – a sort of homage to Joe Brainard, New York poet (died in 1994) who ran in circles with the likes of Andy Warhol and Frank O’Hara. His most famous poem was I remember.

I recommend you Wiki or Google him if you haven’t heard of him, especially all of you artistic types. Joe Brainard is your people.

My poem is rather dark. Totally unintentional. But when I sat down to write, it’s just what came out. I made it all rhyme because I figured it would take the edge off the subject matter. No luck. I read it in class last night and my classmate cried. True story. Then I got a bit weepy when I looked up and saw her, which totally sucks because, even though my professor says that writers live for the raw reaction of a reader, he failed to explain what that does to you when you see a reader react. Well, I can tell you: It moves you to tears, too.

That said, I’m just not sure I’m ready to share my poem with the blog.

Well…  I want to share it, because I said that I would and I know there is nothing to be ashamed of, which is why I felt comfortable writing it the first place. I am not ashamed. Turns out I’m just not sure if I want to be this public with my past. But I promised myself this blog would be a documentary of my road to reinvention – the path to a new me – which would make this post, in particular, an important step on that road.

So, I’ll make you a deal (but I guess we can call it a favor). I will post if:

1. You only comment if you feel you have something to say; please don’t feel pressure to – I know, I know, you lovely people aren’t like that, but I just want to make it clear that commenting is not expected, not now, not ever.

2. And this is really important (this is the favor part), if you know anyone who could use a poem like this one,  I’d like you to pass it on. Experiences mean nothing if not shared. This I know for sure.

You have just read how I rationalize with myself. I negotiate with my thoughts on the regular – that’s how I roll. But it’s a necessary process and, in the end, all you can really do is give your heart the final say in the matter. So, here goes…

***

I remember.
By: sandyb

I remember when I remembered and why I’d chosen to forget
I remember that when I remembered I would break into a sweat:

I remember feeling like I was falling, like the floor was slipping fast
I remember staying strong and brave because I knew it wouldn’t last.

I remember how my knees looked, bent up and in the air
I remember how his body smelled, his clothes, his hands, his hair.

I remember all the whispering and how he said it was “OK”
I remember watching cartoons while he sat there and just “played”.

I remember not understanding that what was happening was sad
I remember that the experience, years later, made me mad.

I remember telling mom and how she at first didn’t believe me
I remember her later apologizing saying, “I know you wouldn’t deceive me.”

I remember the day I decided that it was time to just forget
I remember how hard I cried, but destroy me I would not let.

I remember how the years then passed, the memory just fading
I remember starting to write this down and silently debating

I remember why some memories are best remembered not at all
I remember how much strength it took to get beyond this wall.

I remember why they say some things are just better left unspoken
I remember last night wishing that this seal had not been broken.

I remember though this morning feeling stronger once again
I remember how I can find deep solace just within my pen.

I remember why I remembered and now I’ll remember to forget
But I’ll remember that I remembered here and for this I’ve no regret.