Tiny Scraps of Paper

A Poem

These tiny scraps of paper
hold the memories of my life
even when I don’t want them to
in their crumpled state
or pristine crispness
evocative of that time in my life
when I was crumped
or visually pristine,
which was always short-lived
because who can be a statue
without becoming stagnant

I write notes to myself as
a cross-stitching of my life
gently sewing myself together
with a handful of reminders
on what I had to do that day
or more so, what I had to become
to be able to look at my face
staring back at me in the mirror
that forlorn look of a motherless son
sliding off the edge of a mountain
and putting his hand out for help
only to realize that his dad was gone too
and no one was going to save him

Paper memories in tiny scraps
like a flickering light that won’t stay
long enough to let us see ourselves
in the dark caverns of our minds
so we use a lighter so we can see better
only to realize that we just lit fire
to the tiny scraps of paper
that held our joys and fears,
but in the end, we finally get it

These tiny scraps of paper
were only thought bubbles
birthed in a moment of frenzy
as if any of them really mattered
since we were still breathing
and could still pull out more paper
and write more tiny notes
on tiny scraps of paper
only to burn them later
to get out of the darkness

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