My Parchment

Time had almost taught me to forget,

All my cryptic memories,

poured down on the skin of an animal,                     

hidden deep within a cave.

 

In my darkest hours, when I had lost it all,

I searched the corridors of remembrance,

but the screeching of my brain

yielded no record of the past.

 

I shook like Parkinson's the 

trembling, scrambling for my fossils of living,

until at last I raided the webbed cave

and beheld my morning-sun parchment.

 

There she was,

smooth as dust,

untouched since ancient times,

embracing every ink in steadfastness,                     like an ivy clinging to its wall.

 

One glance

And the storm of revival came.

Forceful as a people’s uprising,

it carried me into restoration.

Alas, it was my parchment,

singing back the forgotten song of my soul.