Remember Me (24 November 2017)

My husband and I have been talking about this writing prompt, how we feel about being remembered after we die. As a writer, I thought at first that I would want my poetry to be remembered (and I would be pleased if people printed out a poem or two that spoke to them, since one does not remember poems, and contrary to popular belief, stuff on the Internet does not hang around forever). And I write too much, too often, to produce comprehensive books of my work.

Ephemeral experiences, however, are worthy of being cherished. So often, I find, people remember me because of my smile…and mention it to me, when they see me again after our first meeting. Smiles. Laughter. Recognition of a momentary rapport with a stranger. A moment of not-aloneness. When I experience that, I feel somehow more real.


Prompt for the 24th: Brewer: For today’s prompt, write a “how I’ll be remembered” poem. It’s an interesting question: How will I be remembered? My amazing looks? My incredible personality? My charitable nature? My goofy jokes? The cranky guy who’s always telling people to stay off his lawn? Dive into this introspection today.

 

Remember Me

If you remember me at all,
recall my joy—my laughter.

Remember me. The one who
looked into your eyes
and recognized a friend.

No matter that we’d never meet again.

Remember me, taking notice of you,
drawing your attention. I laughed…

And you laughed, too.

Copyright © 2017-11-24, by Lizl Bennefeld.

One Reply to “Remember Me (24 November 2017)”

  1. We never know how people might remember us: and I’d like to think that we tend to remember those who passed away with kindness. It’s often a tiny detail that sticks, a smile, a word… It might not be big, but it’s something.

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