CROSSING AT JAYWICK:

I remember sky
I remember blue
I remember birds
I remember song
I remember rain soaked roofs, morning dew, sunrise
I remember a ghost cat at the back door, craving affection
I remember that feeling of alone
I remember that isolation
I remember nothing like that
I remember the key drawer & the last car key
I remember driving to the station
I remember forgetting
I remember feeling dumb
I remember feeling less-than
I remember none of these things, distracted by a big-eyed kitten,
weaving between my feet as I walk, making me laugh
I remember laughing, the feel & the chemical release
I remember running, standing still, nurtured by silence
I remember feeling the planet turning
I remember the conversation, collaboration, communication
I remember the sensation of words forming in the mouth
I remember searching for connections
I remember building bridges after burning them down, doors opening
I remember the first kind word & the last
I remember opening windows to let the night air out, clean air in
I remember radio days behind the wheel of a car, no specific
destination, catching randoms in the frequencies that held me in my
fall
I remember jumping, but not hitting the ground
I remember no sound, not silence
I remember being here before
I remember leaving
I remember thinking I’d never be here again, but here I am
I remember everything & nothing, (probably wasn’t what you imagined
when you asked me to start with ‘I remember’)
I remember this song that’s playing in this cafe right now, the one
I’m sat in the back of with the loners, the tablet tappers & newspaper
readers
I remember none of these faces sat around me, none come here in the
week, except the old loner down the back who’s here every morning,
chipper as a coiled spring, hungry for a little bit of conversation,
greyed out, with a voice of gentle desperation.
I remember none of these things.

(K)