Remembering

Remembering who you were
is sometimes all you need
to see yourself
exactly as you are

Not the same
Not a sage,
not so painfully green
I have walked around this tree

I have seen enough
to understand too much
I’ve walked in sandals, steel toes,
so many sets of shoes

I won’t judge anyone’s path
and I will step aside
to give them room
to pass.

Photo by Zahid Hasan Joy

Solitude

Solitude
Is in the eye of the beholder
Just as the eye inside the storm
Define my days
by this pallete of grays
Hope always rises
behind the clouds
Struck down
Lightning
Ground m to this earth
Barefoot wanderings
I find fewer butterflies
in the twilight of my days
Glasses smashed
Recall the rosy glow
the filtering of light
Clarity is bright
Tripping over stones
in my neglect
Not wanting to forget

The little trapped child
I think I saw her smile
As that lone butterfly
followed close behind.

6-8-2020

Photo by Tracy Conway

Flow

Sometimes
you can feel the past behind you,
like cold water sneaking up in a bath
You feel it,
remember it,
take it all in.

It’s uncomfortable to handle for too long
It starts to sting,
like raw jalapeno in the cracks of your heart
So you turn back to the river

I remember when my river was calm
When it was white water rafting
When it was a long canoe, dodging sunken trees
When it became slow
When I had to paddle
When I paddled upstream

Now I am carrying a kayak on my shoulder,
following the old dried up river bed,
like we did that time in Austin
when all we wanted was to swim

I want to find the flow that takes me
under stars and sunsets again
The breeze is more alive
than these illusions people cleave to

Staying the path,
is not so easy a task,
but rediscovering the flow
is worth every boulder
that blocked the road.

Photo by Lada Rezantseva

Driftwood

Photo by Tracy Conway

www.Mementomorimausoleums.com