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# Is There Freedom in Forgetting or Being Forgotten?
- URL: https://www.andyposner.org/freedom-forgetting-forgotten/
- Published: 2019-10-22T16:24:30.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-14T05:53:28.000Z
- Description: I’m no Dante, lost though I may be, nor you my Beatrice, just as lost to me. Yet the passions ring, silent to your ear— O brooding lyric, lead on! Lo these many years:
- Author: Andy
- Tags: poetry

“*A breathless Death is not so cold as a Death that breathes*.” – Emily Dickinson

I’m no Dante, lost though I may be,  
nor you my Beatrice, just as lost to me.

Yet the passions ring, silent to your ear—  
O brooding lyric, lead on! Lo these many years:

In warm ink we poets write  
excuses for the darkness of the night.

\-

I dreamt your room I once belonged,  
where we in solitude thronged,

two confined, chained soul-to-soul:  
In me you sought, and found, parole,

though living, dying, always chains—mind  
the key I held, fumbling, blind!

Will you let me in? I dare not ask.  
Sobriety drinks that bitter flask.

\-

Outside, in rain, in heat, in snow,  
life passes, tipsy, slow,

and in me rivers, laden, flow—  
carry dreams the tombs outgrow.