the past sits
episodic
in my memory
i have not yet
let those
old images go
i remember well
what it was like
to hunger with
a labyrinthine heart
every tender touch
all the hopeful words
each romantic gesture
given and received
compressed tightly
into the folds of
a greedy brain
which wants to
understand what
to do with having
been through so much
strange sweet chaos
i marvel at how calm
the world is now
how gentle the nights and days
thankful
wistful
open
narinda heng 