Everything can be Forgotten

He was a translator and accomplished poet.
A professor having been knighted
By a king of Portugal.

Leaving two sons who
Survived him when he died.
And he remembered none of it by then.

Murmuring how "Everything can be forgotten"
When every memory had parted ways.

Except a few words marked as the poet's,
In between long periods of bird calls

As winds from beyond
Parted the branches of trees.

The sentinels standing silent watched
When the birds carried the poet away.

It came to me: the memories go on ahead,
Setting up camp for when it's time.

Time to leave, filled with wanderlust,
And a new journal.



Edwin Honig (1919 - 2011)