Memory's Cold, Mocking Voice

A poem of depression, loss, and blame

Memory's cold, mocking voice

Echoes in my ears

Recollection's chains echo in my brain

And I can't block out his jeers

He replays ev'ry kindly thing

My ex-friend said to me

Because I don't know why they chose to go,
He suggests why, cruelly.

And it all is so convincing

That I grant that his reasons are true

It IS all my fault, for their love did halt

When my wretchedness they knew

"Should you not be glad that they did escape,
"They were able to break free?
"Nevermore inflict, on the ones you picked,
"Such perverted misery."

Though my conscious mind is aware these barbs
Are all baseless, hurtful lies,

I feel full of shame, I embrace the blame--

I'm content to self-despise

For a real guilt stabs me to the hilt

If I claim that they were mean;

They are perfect souls whom my mind extols.

Cursing them would be obscene!

Well, each and every night I'm filled with fright.

Bedtime brings my picture-show

And I think they're here, saying "I"m here, dear--

"And I'll never, ever go."

And I know what's next--I look 'round, perplexed,

For they've vanished from my sight

Oh, I wonder how they're doing now!

Yes, I do so ev'ry night.

"If you weren't so queer they would still be here,"

Says my memory. "Too bad!"

And I clutch my pain to my heart again:

The best pal I ever have had.

Yes, I'm confident it's my pain's intent

To console me all my life

Little does he know, I'll force him to go!

Cut him free, thus, with a knife.

Author's Note

A bit of Tolkien, a bit of Dickinson