if I were

Reading what I have just written, I now believe

that if I were to die, I will not remember any of the words I have written, nor the words I have read,

how shall I tell it?

The tree itself will live far longer than I. It is lovelorn, it is the red pine that falls like clockwork. Only then would I think I saw this before. Fossils and skull-caps of the ocean, it rapes each wave onto the root-llano, the flower of death.

Kneels, the dark mossy rain, it was finding your bones. The upbringing of a stranger not myself.

How I stir from the comeuppance of a dream, or is it the hand that digs the flower’s thorax and ribwort leaf into my side? Give me the thorn instead, and I’ll stab it in my ribs just to feel something.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.


Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a piece of prose (fiction, nonfiction, or creative nonfiction) that is 144 words or less in length, and includes the line “Reading what I have just written, I now believe”.


64 thoughts on “if I were

    1. Hahaha, thanks! That was not my intention initially. I wanted to showcase feelings of nothingness versus wanting to finally feel something. Thank you so much for your feedback, Lillian.

      Liked by 2 people

    1. I believe that too. Just as most of us cannot recall a past life, it’s still intriguing to wonder.

      Thank you so much for your feedback, Jane. It’s much appreciated. ❤

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Love this especially; “The tree itself will live far longer than I. It is lovelorn, it is the red pine that falls like clockwork.” Your writing is mesmerizing as always! swoon 💝💝

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Damn, Lucy, your prose titillates, torments, and amazes just much like your poetry. I get all Zen about death. I’d like to believe the soul remembers every word and every moment of their past life during the “life review”.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, Glenn, this is quite the compliment! Thank you so much.

      “I’d like to believe the soul remembers every word and every moment of their past life during the “life review”.”

      I must ask: Have you ever read “Many Lives, Many Masters” by Dr. Brian Weiss. The life review is a concept he goes over after the soul leaves the body, and there are different “planes” we cross to depending on what we have learned in each life we cycle. It’s very philosophical.

      I’d like to believe that we remember everything during then as well; I feel it makes it more worthwhile, the ability to recall.

      Like

  3. It must be sad and scary not to feel–and so much so that pain is welcomed.
    I always get little movies in my head from your poems. This one was a Catherine from Wuthering Heights sort of scene on the moors. 🤣 I’m imagining ghosts, too.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. great questions Lucy … I think we are reborn but are too confused to remember. I am hoping with training we can/will recall.

    And that numb not knowing is real progress … hope you are not self-harming.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thank you so much, Kate.

      No, I do not self-harm. Most of the poems I write, they are never from my perspective. The “narrator” changes, so it’s more of the poem having its own identity. I get ideas, thoughts, on what to write and I do put something of my own here and there. Usually when I do, I explain in an author’s note; but even as a “poetess of darkness”, I am actually quite happy and well. 😀

      I hope that clears everything up, but I thank you for the concern.

      Liked by 3 people

  5. I plan to stay here on the earth as a ghost, not to see what happens after I’m gone, but to keep watch over my loved ones. Sadly, I have forgotten a lot of what I have written over the past six years, and often go back to look for a poem or a story to rework, and I don’t recognise them! I love the second paragraph about the lovelorn tree and the ‘fossils and skull-caps of the ocean’. I have never dreamt about digging up someone else’s or even my own bones, but I do remember my emotions being so numb I needed to hurt myself just to feel something. A brooding piece, Lucy.

    Liked by 1 person

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