I Remembered Everything

I Remembered Everything

(Inspired by the writings of George Sand)

Once my heart was captured,
I stopped, staggered, unsure,

like a man in a tragic story,

knocked roughly to the floor
by a sudden turn of comic rapture –
and straightway, doubt was shown the door,
deliberately, and with a sort of frantic joy.

And I was the man who was once again the boy:

flush with life: life worth living,

and I remembered everything, and more,
and I accepted everything, and believed everything
without struggle, without suffering.

And the song awoke, then the poetry,

I remembered, and relished, again

the fondness of forgotten friends. Then,
for the first time since the flood came,
my heart found song,

and my voice rose in strains happy, strong,

and I could feel, within, the symphony:
moment by moment new songs to me came –

and I had a new name.

Afterward, I never was the same;

my future was different, neatly arranged –

and though I thought history was in stone writ,

even my past was changed,

revised anew with Shakespearean wit:

a comic clarity, reached back, and reframed

all that had passed as tragic;

the remaining restless regrets, I framed
behind dark glass, in cardboard bins,
and stored them in the attic

next to a box of things to mend.

And then, with new name armed, I became

an innocent again; free of crimes  –

and for the first time in a long time  –

blameless of all blame;

a man who knew not shame.

My heart raced, and I felt freedom, bold and pure:

freedom greater after slavery endured.

I was true as true; I was forever sure;

I was rich for being poor;

I was less, but I was more.

My armor shone to never rust,

and I found trust when I gave trust.

I was busy, but never rushed,

and happy: so happy that I blushed –

not with shame, as I always had before –

with pride, as one by kindness crushed,

as one adores who is adored.