Traverse the Cape of Good Hope, Ancestors ~ Saturday, September 6, 2025
Traverse the Cape of Good Hope, Ancestors
Memories make me jump out of my skin
each time I remember people I knew
moments I find make me jump out of bed
orbit as gravity the rubbish bin
remembered emotions never to feel
instances of the past, the other shoe
each time it drops, get me out of my head
snakes in a viper pit bite me to death
memories, my body, felt-sense, unreal
as I get older, I cannot return
kiss the girls in high school and make them cry
each memory I remember, I spurn
memories of a life well-lived, goodbye
each day, I wake up to your final breath
jump out of bed, jump out of the window
understanding how all these emotions
make a person leap up out of terror
perhaps a fear of death makes an arrow
observe the target, fear of missing out
understanding why we sail the oceans
the Seven Seas, hardwired for error
out of Europe to Goa, carrack ships
from Portugal to India, this route
merchants traveled for God and the spice trade
yet, I wake up in terror over life
such epithets come to mind, a tirade
kiss me goodbye, my torso full of strife
internal war against the past, my lips
never quiver, except when the tap drips
Memories make me jump out of my skin
each time I remember people I knew
moments I find make me jump out of bed
orbit as gravity the rubbish bin
remembered emotions never to feel
instances of the past, the other shoe
each time it drops, get me out of my head
snakes in a viper pit bite me to death
memories, my body, felt-sense, unreal
as I get older, I cannot return
kiss the girls in high school and make them cry
each memory I remember, I spurn
memories of a life well-lived, goodbye
each day, I wake up to your final breath
jump out of bed, jump out of the window
understanding how all these emotions
make a person leap up out of terror
perhaps a fear of death makes an arrow
observe the target, fear of missing out
understanding why we sail the oceans
the Seven Seas, hardwired for error
out of Europe to Goa, carrack ships
from Portugal to India, this route
merchants traveled for God and the spice trade
yet, I wake up in terror over life
such epithets come to mind, a tirade
kiss me goodbye, my torso full of strife
internal war against the past, my lips
never quiver, except when the tap drips
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