I'm here again,
but I am not afraid,
not any more.
This place
lets the fear rest
and the place no longer screams
but whispers
in these green-black trees,
and I feel almost safe
in this cool embrace
of strength and air.
The fear is gone
but the memory remains.
Why did he touch me like that?
I was so young-
did he forget?
Why? Why?
And he is gone-
dust again.
I am beginning
to hate that corpse.
As the brook laughs
perhaps at this memory,
I remember
that I shall never forget.
written 6.16.o5
Rebekah Gamble
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/memory-62/
