A bit late to the party, I’ll admit, but I couldn’t let today pass without marking it with a poem… Below is one I wrote during a workshop at the Lit and Phil in Newcastle, an absolutely beautiful and inspiring building, where I always used to love attending workshops and events.
The workshop was on memory, and this is one of the pieces that came out of it.
In our minds, as in life, do things become clearer,
as we step back, take in the bigger picture?
Or do rose and green tints thicken,
leaving us to create our own memories
from the scraps we have left?
A fragment here, a patch there,
begged, borrowed and stolen
until a picture we are happy with begins to form.
Gossip and false tales become solid, hard facts
as we hope we remember which memories
were fashioned from which friend’s story,
lest with a hint of embellishment,
we tell them our version
of their tale.