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

Of connection



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