If I Could Erase My Pain, What Would Be Left of Me?

A Poem

What would your past 

say to you? 

If you chose one thing

to erase.

What life have you

breathed into 

that thing

which lives

in your present

mind?

What makes it worthy of 

erasing?

A memory

is all it is.

A feeling

is all it has become.

A thing of the past

yet,

if you were given the option

you might erase it.

You wouldn’t get a

redo.

What could that mean

for you?

What lessons

would you 

unlearn if you

erased that 

one thing? 

If I told you,

you could erase 

one memory

from the past,

or all memories

you’d wish

to let go,

but

the implication

would be

you’d be 

a different person,

what would you say?

You’d unlearn

the lessons

that were 

set forth on

your path.

Lessons that were

painful from the

start. Those that still ache

at the mere flicker

of the thought.

Surely,

you’d let them go.

You’d become a

different person,

but you’d give anything,

to be free—

from the bars of the mind

that keep you jailed

in the brain, alone,

locked away in a dark

place.

What if I told you,

you would no longer

be you, entirely? 

I ask you

to think about 

walking up to the

moment 

you’d erase 

and asking it

it’s intention

with you.

Ask the memory

you’re about to erase,

“What have you

taught me?”

Then, ask again,

if that’s a lesson

you’re willing to let go. 

For it has shaped you,

it has willed you,

It has bound you,

and integrated itself

into your life.

Woven infinitely

into the cells

that make you,

you.

It is you. 

Now ask yourself,

why would you 

want to

erase you?