memory.
Friday, October 30, 2026
Our memories hold within them many keys:
To many rooms within the cathedral of our psyche.
Within this sacred space, the hallways are eerily still.
I glance down the corridor, choosing which door to open as I will.
Some rooms bear the marks of deep pain and great grief;
Others disheveled as if ransacked by a thief.
Some rooms remain untainted;
those are the rooms with which I am strangely unacquainted.
But I have found that these keys lead us to that which is true.
Regardless of the nature of the room.
Each room in my mind possesses one thing:
Something that cannot be destroyed by the thief,
Something that can be preserved through friendship with grief:
Hope.
Because hope is a force not willing to easily die.
It will fight to survive.
In this, I have found that grief is not the true thief.
She has become a most cherished friend.
I have learned to become friends with my memories.
And to receive the good they have to give.
For it is an honor to see the beauty in what is tarnished and also within what untainted.
This is a grace indeed.
May we all learn to befriend such severity.
— s.memory.
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