Another really personal poem, as I can only seem to write these types. I've been on anti-epilepsy medication for years, which has left me with short-term memory loss. As a writer, it's truly frustrating when I can't remember words.
I once was an esthete of words, Often lost in a reverie of Locutions and recondite Expressions, A receptacle of idioms. Until my hippocampus spluttered, And suddenly my brain Struggled to utter Simple phrases Like chuffed, Piece of cake, Or glutton. Pregabalin, An emetic medication, Reminds me of the Figure of speech, Paraprosdokian. What doesn’t kill you Makes you stronger, Until you can’t remember What slayed you in the first place. The term is camouflaged, Not quite concealed, Like an arctic hare In winter snow, Hiding from foes. A lagomorph, Burrows and freezes, Slowing its body As if waiting to Rouse one day. Losing a word, Or a name, An infuriating void lingers: An outline without substance, Almost, but never fully, Capturing what once lived inside it. Even as you wrestle With the dull ache of memory’s failure, You know exactly What the forgotten thing is not.
Copyright © 2025 Suswati Basu. All rights reserved.
Wow, Suswati, this is one of the most moving poems I've ever read. The way the language shifts as the piece goes on was such a powerful way to showcase the deterioration of one's vocabulary when they quite literally can't recall the words they used to know.
I'll be sharing more thoughts on my podcast today as this poem is one of the five shout outs, but I had to leave a comment as well. This was truly incredible.
Suswati.
this is beautiful.
i had shivers running up and down as i read it. My hippocampus almost spluttered.
you have described the terror of reaching for words that should be there and are not, so well. The last lines:
Even as you wrestle
With the dull ache of memory’s failure,
You know exactly
What the forgotten thing is not.
You know what the forgotten thing is not. Poignant, sorrowful, and achingly true.
Know that your words will return, partially, slowly, trickling in like a cool stream, and then descend upon you in an avalanche, your personal dictionary whole again, and growing.