It Is From Memory

It is from memory
I have learned ways
to be and feel into

the day.

Both this one
and those yet
to arrive.

Remembering how
he held that fish
with tender care -

sure to have wet
his hands before
he slid his left
along the belly

toward the head,
his right toward
the tail,

cradling the fish
gingerly as if it
were a gift for

the ONE.

Watching him
in my mind's eye
I imagined how the
trout felt, against
the skin, and

the wonder the heart
held as it captured
the fleeting stillness
of a fish;

an humble awe
of the fisherman.

It is from
memory that we
seek to live
new moments across the
span of this bridge
we call time.

Seeking to achieve
a thing we hold dear
in the hallowed chambers
of days gone by.

Time passed is
always pushing us
through time present,

toward a more perfect
sense of our selves and
all we hold dear

from the lacery images our
soul drags forth
from what had been and
what we hope to
hold forever

as pure and
unrefined bliss.

One step back
gives us the clarified hope
and the reticulated essence
of all we long for;
all we desire to become.

It is how we
carry our people
in us and our
past just on the
edges of our sleeve.