Whatever Remains of What We Once Knew So Well?
Whatever remains of drafts and notes scribbled in margins
that can no longer be deciphered or elucidated? What of
the pain once thought unbearable after strength is depleted
and restored, time after time?
Whatever remains of memories stored inside drawers, kept
dormant or meant to be opened on an auspicious day? What
of the efforts to recognize dozens of white medicinal powders
by taste, touch, aspect, smell, or fricative sounds?
Whatever remains of the excitement of listening to a concert
or an opera for the first time? What of the once-familiar streets,
now a palimpsest of maps remodeled with time's brushstrokes?
Whatever remains of once-treasured autographed books read
and reread before moving to a more restricted space? What of
the names of the characters of our favorite novels and movies?
Whatever remains of all the seeds planted, of all the flowerbeds
decimated by deer? What of leftover thoughts never conveyed,
of unspoken words that might have filled volumes?
Whatever remains of walls erected out of silence mixed with
the clay of frustration? What of goodbyes when our best friends'
features fade within receding horizons?
About the Author: Hedy Habra is a poet, artist, and essayist. Her latest poetry collection, Or Did You Ever See The Other Side? (Press 53 2023), won the 2024 International Poetry Book Awards and was a finalist for the Eric Hoffer Award. The Taste of the Earth, won the Silver Nautilus Book Award and Honorable Mention for the Eric Hoffer Book Award. Tea in Heliopolis won the Best Book Award, and Under Brushstrokes was a finalist for the International Book Award. Her story collection, Flying Carpets, won the Arab American Book Award’s Honorable Mention. Her book of criticism is Mundos alternos y artísticos en Vargas Llosa. She is a twenty-five-time nominee for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. https://www.hedyhabra.com/
Image Credit: Julie de Graag: Varens (1920) Public domain image courtesy of Artvee
As It Ought To Be 