A Poem by Edmund Janas, copyright 2024

Memory. Memories run deeper than childhood,
Etched in our atoms, finer than mother’s recipes –
Even if she’s long gone, her essence lingers, triggers,
Prompts and molds us from dark, unknowable places.

Fears, dreams, loves, hates – unspeakable volumes
Of lives, loves, losses, victories across time and tongue.
Suffering, joys – stories told from rocking chairs,
Lives cut short before their time.

As Poppa said, ‘Write your story from the mountain,
Not the chair.’ This life is brief – don’t waste it
In argument or vanity, in generational trauma.
Shed that useless skin, break free, and live.