Friday, March 22, 2013

don't bother remembering

Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don't regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the livingroom couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You've walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You've traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don't bother remembering
any of it. Let's stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.

And if that's not a poem that needs to be shared and shared again, I don't know what is. We could likely all start a poem with, 'regret nothing.' And it's so true, and freeing, just to say, don't bother remembering. Doesn't matter, here you are. Look about you. You're under the lit sign. 

All that anyone's talking about today is the snow. White-out conditions, big snowstorm. Very bad roads. Scary stuff. Glad I was able to stay in for the most part, aside from one errand. The photo above - I think I've taken nearly the same photo 10 times in the last couple of years. And I call the bird, my 'recurring bird' because it's shown up in all seasons on my Flickr stream.

Speaking of Flickr, I made this quick video. And there are some still shots below:

These images remind me of the Oscar Wilde quotation:

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.”

Wishing you all a beautiful Friday, wishing you stars....


  1. OMG, I think I just exhaled for the first time this morning. Thank you Shawna for this perfectly timed post with all its beautiful and heart-felt wisdom.
    Happy Friday.

  2. Thank you for the Friday wish, and for the suspension of regret and the returning bird and the stars.

  3. Thanks to you, Shawna - also a recurring bird - for your insights and captured moments. That poem was perfect!


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