My Love Remembers

With the approach of the Winter Solstice, I find myself going through old files, old boxes, old pictures, thinking of the bits of my heart that are no longer physically close to me. I wrote this one after spending some bittersweet moments browsing through photos of my little brother…

“My Love Remembers”

I bled my heart
over a porous stone,
wrapped it in dark moon,
placed it over warm honey,
fresh rosemary, sage
and cinnamon bark…

by stone and moon—spiced
and honeyed—my love
remembers yours.

.
for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Tuesday Platform
Heart and Honey

41 thoughts on “My Love Remembers

  1. I am curious… the words & visual so intertwined Ms Wicked… the beauty & sorrow…
    what came into being first?
    Potent are photos of those we miss, sending love xox

  2. Cooked and cured. Very nice, Magaly. We don’t forget old loves, do we? Some perhaps we’d like to forget but it doesn’t happen. We all prepare those memories for keeping.
    I had a hard time with the way my poem went. I was determined to use the 12 in order and molest was next. So kin made it work. Living on a farm I knew that animals do breed with kin, it’s called inbreeding. Purebred dogs especially are inbred a lot. Some times too often and some of the puppies will have birth defects. A lot are problems with their backs and back legs.
    Sorry it grossed you. I could change it. But most times human molestion is bad, offtimes a crime.
    ..

      • I was not grossed out by thought of a dog being a dog, Jim. It had more to do with the motif bringing up something I read in a the news not that long ago. It was disturbing and sad (and a crime, as you point out). I think all of these makes your poem very effective; not just in illustrating what goes on wen it comes to animal inbreeding, but also in the power it has to evoke emotions.

  3. This reads so beautifully. It has the sound of a perfect ritual for a night when the need to talk to a passed away loved one hits hardest.

  4. The moon and time of year are doing the same with me. A gentle turning inward and drawing memories close like a fuzzy blanket against the coldness of time. This is so beautiful, my dear. I can smell the rosemary.

  5. Rosemary for remembrance, sage for clearing and calming, cinnamon for the warding of depression and to strengthen the heart, a perfect incense for the sweet pain of this poem.

    • Yes, I created it. I keep a Honeyed Jar (actually, two, since my little brother died, almost three years ago). My brother’s is sealed–I keep it as a reminder of all the good and sweet things that made him who he was. The second jar, a bigger one, has a removable top–I add bits of papers to it, with wishes, with the names of friends that can use a sweet thought, and so on… 🙂

  6. This is lovely, Magaly. All warm and stuff. 🙂
    Saw this photo flying by on FB a couple times, and each time I thought it was a piece of sushi! What if sushi had hearts in it? Yum.

  7. I so love the idea of “love” remembering; it heightens it to something quite beyond us, detached and made of its own-ness, which is as apt a description of love I’ve ever seen.

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