As I sift through the layers
to the mudsill of memory,
emerge from the dark grit,
clarifying a new arc of story.
When finding long buried parts of me,
often the story bones are distorted
by the shovel I use to uncover them.
Still, I need all the major bones
for the tale to hang together.
Some days I feel like a ghoul
grabbing patches of withered skin
and grafting parts together
over tendons of regret
to make a memory whole.
I need to dig up lots of selves,
keep integrity of each as I tweezer pick;
read their toe tags -shame, courage,wise one, to know how we create
an inner community of story tellers.
~ Karen Edwards, Sept. 21, 2020
Writing with Spirit Workshop