Never taken (economics of loss)

lives can be stolen, sure
& early
but no one loved
is ever taken
from us, really

when flesh is gone
we carry them, daily
in our pockets
& they
are never spent

memory is the only currency
I value–
it renews & doubles
the more I use it

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About Susan L Daniels

I am a firm believer that politics are personal, that faith is expressed through action, and that life is something that must be loved and lived authentically--or why bother with any of it?
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18 Responses to Never taken (economics of loss)

  1. ruleofstupid says:

    A lovely thought well expressed – but I can’t help feeling the parents wanted more than memories.

    • If I might be indelicate on my own blog, where I strive to be proper most of the time, FUCK yes. Of course it takes years, years, years to get to this point. Right now what they carry will wound more than help.

      • ruleofstupid says:

        and how would that journey sound as a poem?

        • Something deeply and starkly personal, that I cannot begin to fathom writing. I wrote this one, here, as a response to someone saying these children were “taken” from their families, but we all know they, the ones we love, never, ever leave. Their absence tears us apart, then haunts us quietly, and then, finally, at some point moves to what I describe above. So, I guess a loss on this level would sound very much like that ripping apart, with words I don’t have.

          • ruleofstupid says:

            It’s true – so many days of reminders everywhere and the most present thing in every scene being what isn’t there. Some things are too big to encase in a few lines.
            I’m glad there are Susans in the world to keep a light on 🙂

  2. mobius faith says:

    This is nice. Great title also.
    One question – does this apply to alzheimers?

  3. Totally agree with the sentiment of this Susan.

  4. You say this so well, Susan. Please upload this to any of the blogs dedicated to the memory of the slaughtered innocents. May God console all who mourn..

  5. nelle says:

    Memories are the most precious
    things we have. Where once we talked, where once we hugged, where we raised and comforted and some birthed and nursed, where we tucked them into beds and lives in which they believed we had their backs… they did as we asked, they studied and learned and practised, all within a presumption of safety.

    Our failing was monumental and catastrophic. It shattered this illusion the way it did mine at age nine when I sat in horror as an intercom announced a person I revered had fell to a bullet. I know how it impacted me, how the force of it all stayed with me through years of childhood, every reminder of him a lament and yearning for what was and would never be again. Those Dallas bullets eviscerated my unthinking trust, and on the next occasion I dared stick toes in the water, April and June 1968, bullets flew again and wiped out my try.

    I fear this legacy, for there is no escaping this horror. We think children avoided the coverage, we think a lack of questions mean disinterest. I asked no questions of the Kennedy assassination, not of others, but oh did I read. Hell, I saw his killer die live on television, just as I walked in the door of our home.

    Our children know we can’t keep them safe, and that is one hell of a thing we just dumped upon them.

  6. Yes, Nelle, it is. I hate to see innocence stolen like this, so horribly and brutally.

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