it is that time of year,
it comes and goes
in waves they say.
unannounced, this is the memory,
physical and mental,
if that word is is politically allowed
these days. in disorder, subconcious,
tide rising , lifting scum .
once realised, that it is time
again, settle back in to the season.
be known that i cannot keep things alive,
i have no power, no means of identification.
i cannot save you.
we are the living ones,
guilt and trouble feel,
this a work ongoing.