The Persistence of Memory The child, the grassy grave, and standing there. The mother speaking to the five-year-old. She tells him of the soul he is to bear, his older brother's soul. His own must fold-- a flag of honour, mourning, hid from sight. Your brother was an infant when he died. You, Salvador, are lucky, living, bright as pennies copper-new. Your world is wide. It's time you understood the will of God. He gave you life that you might incarnate the precious little one beneath this sod. His grave releases him. This is your fate. The man had masks, a strangeness, force. The art flew birdlike from a darkened source. Shirley Glubka Shirley Glubka is a retired psychotherapist, poet, essayist, and novelist. Her most recent chapbook is Reflections Caught Leaping: poetry and related prose. Her latest novel: The Bright Logic of Wilma Schuh. Shirley lives in Prospect, Maine with her spouse, Virginia Holmes. Website: http://shirleyglubka.weebly.com
3 Comments
Susan Morse
3/8/2020 12:49:18 pm
I particularly love the last two lines of this poem. Very evocative!
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Portly Bard
3/9/2020 09:48:26 pm
You do the art, the artist, and your form incredible justice.
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The Persistence of Memory' is a profound exploration of the intricate relationship between time and memory. Your thoughtful analysis and eloquent writing bring a new depth to this classic theme, making it both engaging and intellectually stimulating. Truly a remarkable piece that leaves a lasting impression!
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May 2025
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