What’s worth remembering,

if I will forget.

Dusty roads and blank faces that attempt to mask forgotten pain.

Desperation clings like a thick fog.

Callused hands and wrinkled eyes,

What name am I saying now?

Thin open arms and long stares,

I am a small sailboat in the ocean, rocking back and forth,

apart of something.

A pebble thrown into a pond, making steady ripples.

Sinking further,

Frozen and alone in the new surrounding abyss.

I can hear their muffled laughter from beneath the water,

I am so far away.

Too far to understand their words, to feel their grief.

What’s worth remembering,

when guilt kicks me farther down into the murky water.

Dissatisfied and unsettled,

I won’t forget.

Published by Kendall Johnson