How We Forget
Hear this: Beautiful things are the ugly ones. It might be the same thing.
When you can’t hold onto a certain thing, shake it off just a little. But, certainly not whole fully. We forgot why we forget. You forgot how the fluid shaped the womb. You forgot how we may get lost on our way. You forgot to kiss hardly when you had the chance. You spilled your tea the other morning, and now you are back in the 90s. Regardless, regardless, regardless. You gurgle your own dirt and spill it away every morning, like you mean something. Like you are here just for them. Like you are today, just as you are the other day. The last time your mother said I love you was when you could not talk. Was when you drive away 105km away from town. Was when you closed your eyes, hoping you could not exist, just for one moment. You want to say I love you to the starfish. You wonder if you are a grasshopper. I hate to say this, but love is not always there, for certain. Love needs to go to search for a cave just to sense that shivering. Love, is not always why you should hold yourself steady. Love is somewhere pulling you out further out to the far, “not too far away, come back another day”.
Valencia Wilianto
Happy beautiful weekend, folks. I watched poetry slam the other day. I had the urge to write down one of my own. The title, “How We Forget”, is after Loyce Gayo herself. She brought her pieces beautifully, and with a few tears. I was reminded. And yet again, you are reminded of how beautiful the ugly shall be.
With my weak organs, I am very fond of you.
Valencia Wilianto
@PoetryOfHvaw