Our pasts await us.
They lie fallow and fertile in the fields of time, this moment
clumped like desiccated dirt, filled
with rock and inorganic detritus,
that moment also, subtle as
luminescent loam, glowing
in the reflection of memory
we reach from them, stretching
beyond their clutch, their grasp
they reach for us, extending
beyond yesterday’s hold on who
why and from whence we are.
Who? Am I? Are you?
Photos, tales, and biased recollection offer
perspective that is alternately
grounding
gratifying
unsettling
insoluble
mysteriously alluring and yet
mesmerizingly alarming.
We are not what we seem, you and I.
We are neither where we have grown nor
where we grow to
or for.
For it is neither then nor when which makes
us who we are.
It is here.
It is now.
It is how we understand our inter-relatedness, and life’s
interdependence.
stunning — calling me down to ground — to here and now Thank you!