is what we remember what we believe?
are the imprints of moments sequenced in our dna?
does our heart beat in rhythm to the melodies of our past?
do our breaths falter in the wake of every shame?
i remember
hiding under the mahogany table, breathing in the musky wood, breathing out a prayer for no one to find me
being shut in the closet, padding the cracks with pillows, defending my heart from the shouts below
wishing upon stars that there was another life waiting for me in the books I consumed
but I also remember
her picking me up early from school, plush puppy in hand, guiding me into a moment of rest
her voice telling me that I needed my own money, to never let someone else control it, or me
wondering if that look in her eyes was dying for freedom, if she was dying for her freedom
i wonder if you’ll remember
your first date
that time you laughed so hard something came out of your nose
or the way your mother sobbed, folded over your hospital bed, too broken to hold you together, too scared to let go of your hand
is what we remember who we are?
am I hidden?
am I free?
am I broken?
how many memories are left for me to make?
how many more chances do I have to remember the woman I want to become?
Penelope J Oak 