I don’t seem to know a lot about a lot of things these days since all the bombs, since we lost Dad and I rarely feel him anymore, since the gun and the takings and the raging hot, impotent blood, since Mom’s slipping awayness, since the mass release of the damagers… I don’t seem to know a lot about a lot of things.

Associations are outdated, overused, stale, like telling a story out of  habit… rehearsed. I don’t know a lot about a lot of things these days, but I know I have stopped telling those tales, stopped trying to keep things alive that want to die, that need to die, that died a long time back, but still need to be laid to rest.

This is the funeral time, the memorial time, the reflective time between death and burial. I’m picking flowers and readying myself, preparing to open up the earth and lay it all down. Then, there will be some space for knowing again. Then, I am certain I will know more about more things again.

I am certain new stories are coming…

 

Elizabeth Fellows

6/27/2020, 7am