Monday 9 November 2020

The Heft of Memory


I think of you at odd times, the templates

are not a convenient protocol –

and sometimes I don’t think of you at all

as the mind hardly differentiates


between the minute grains, the separate heft

of conscious and unconscious memory.

Every time I return to a story

you’re in it somewhere, to the right or left


of each chapter. And the city spools in

your laughter like an angler’s line, your face

a mirage of leaf shadows, just a faint trace

of your voice when the peak hour traffic thins.


In every courtyard I visit, every square,

in every vanished landmark - you’re there.


  1. Beautiful.
    I so understand the heft in your title, but your sonnet delicately dancing across those memories - and captures them and the feelings so very, very well.

    1. Thank you. How does one 'remember' someone who is all along an innate part of every level of consciousness?

  2. There are those people who stay with us forever...

  3. Your poems sometimes...I have to inhale and exhale slowly to take them in. This is one of those poems. Thank you

    1. I'm so glad you liked it, thank you. Your comment somehow made me breathless also and reminded me of Mary Oliver...

  4. Hi Nila - the heft of thinking back over time and realising all those things we missed out on - but you're so right too re those who've are fully a part of our lives ... they've formed together through out our living memory.
    Take care and all the best - our memories will always take us with them - Hilary

    1. Hi Hilary, some memories are so much an intrinsic part of our psyche that there is no remembering necessary. Thank you for your well wishes. Stay safe and well.