The Quilt of Human Memory

I still remember my grandmother,
Although I saw her, maybe seven times,
Past the age of two.

And maybe she remembered hers,
Or a grandfather,
And so on back.

The quilt of human memory
Is connected, but not
Linear: we remember those
Who remember those others
Who remember those still others.

It has been said
That you die a second time,
The day the last person who remembered you dies.
But I don’t think that’s right,
Because someone still remembers
That person.

We’re connected, but different:
Separated in time, by other connections,
Not directly,
But still —
It’s a beautiful
Crazy
Type

Of connection

Reading Epiphany

Maybe you’ve had an experience like this one.

Reading at Sunset

Again the time goes drifting by
The night comes in, unheeded
The last rays of the dying light
Are all that’s really needed

She reads the last few pages
And she slowly turns the cover
The universe spreads out its arms
To gather in its lover

International

Flags

Politics:
The art of convincing people
To hate others

I see people’s pride in their heritage
And I understand and appreciate it
As they understand and appreciate mine

And we have no problems

For the true International community
Is comprised of people
Who don’t want to tell everyone else
How to live