Thursday, November 24, 2011

Thanksgiving and The Archaeology of Self

December 2 Poem

Sometimes in moving forward with our lives, we forget about who we used to be. Do you know this feeling? Man, I thought I was past it. I was looking through the internet and found a poem I had written a long time ago, published in American Poetry Review.

A relic from a time where I was without money, suffering in the ways only a 29 year old can believe in suffering, full of the certainties that there was no future and no past capable of redeeming the life I was living.

And now I am here, wherever here is. How strange to look back on that person. How fucked up it all is, seeing the shadow of who you once were, burned into some virtual pavement.

I guess with Thanksgiving I have been thinking about what and who I have to be grateful for, a lot, for some reason. The person who wrote that poem. I am grateful he existed, that I can visit him in this way, remember that other things used to be important to him, and perhaps they still should be.

Happy Thanksgiving.

1 comment:

  1. Wow... found your blog on twitter and this entry really reaches to me. I can relate very well and I have sometimes asked myself if anyone else has this same mindset towards their past and where they are now. I've always believed the past both good and bad times are what have made me who I am and that requires no regrets and respect for life itself. Lately i have to remind myself that if anything pain reminds me that i am living. Thanks