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Remember
by Barbara Southard
Remember this
Junior Brown playing the blues.
Those leaves at dusk traveling
to the center of your soul
through conduits of deep crimson.
Store this
In some retrievable place,
like the glass dish placed
on the window sill, still holding
sea-washed stones from that little town
in Italy, where we walked through
the woods to swim in the sea.
Remember this
The hummingbird that pierced
your heart with beauty outside
the window of the cafe near the
Bay of Fundy—or the snow geese
rising up of one mind like Buddha
out of the marshes in coastal Virginia.
Store these
In some retrievable place,
to be brought back when your eyes
dim and your body no longer answers
your bidding—when ghosts of past
failures crowd out the incandescant
feel of a baby’s hand in yours.
Remember these
The multitude of sacred moments
that marched onward from that first
sentient spark to the last flickering light.
Remember