Monday Morning Musings:
“It is the onion, memory,
that makes me cry.”
From Craig Raine, “The Onion”
“Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory—”
–Percy Bysshe Shelley, from “Music When Soft Voices Die (To. ..)
the universe born
from a fire dance
with a bang, barging forth,
endless now, eternal,
remembering the almost
and the always
rounding in long, liquid circles
creating time,
but timeless,
yet there it is–
the secret poetry,
of the dawning day,
hints of light in the darkness.
***
Leaves turn scarlet and gold
against the azure blue, so bold
but as the air turns crisp and cold
and the leaves fall, uncontrolled
we remember
the bright green of trees and grass,
the calls of birds, the way they dance
into the slanted light of autumn
remember
the scent of stew and bread
and the blankets piled upon the bed—
and yet, still I see
the bee
moving from flower to flower
knowing his hours
are limited
but uninhibited
he flies
and tries–
does he remember?
(What are the dreams of a bee?)
I see the spotted lantern fly,
remember to crush it, say good-bye
dead bug, though I feel some remorse
he’s only doing his job, of course–
but once, did he remember the air
and sunlight, feel despair?
The man in the movie forgets the facts
of his life, he acts
on some written instructions,
and we make assumptions
connect the dots,
but sometimes, blank spots
are filled in with what wasn’t there–
my mom fills these holes in the air
with dreams, believes
things that never happened, perceives
a different time-line, a reality
of what never was and never will be
and so, it goes, we see,
and will we remember this
autumn coming, in starts and fits
but summer stays, and we sit outside
hide (a bit)
from truth, well, who’s to decide
what is right, and what we abide?
We smile, drink wine
enjoy the sun, and life is fine
mostly, though we remember
autumn comes, and pages turn,
emotions churn, we yearn
for things that never were, perhaps
or for our world not to collapse,
City Hall Reflected in a Puddle, Philadelphia
we walk
reflect on the past, talk
of life and a book
and we look
observe, that time moves on
and circles back
and light comes, sometimes at a slant
or through the cracks,
I remember that.
We haven’t had a chance to get to the movies (sigh, maybe when this book is done)– but Dale, we did see a good one on Netflix. Remember. Trailer here. It’s from 2015, but I don’t remember it in the theaters. It’s much better than the synopsis sounds: a man with dementia follows the written instructions of a fellow nursing home resident to hunt down the man who killed their families at Auschwitz. Well, the director is Atom Egoyan, and it stars Christopher Plummer. Certainly not upbeat, but very well-done, a quiet sort of thriller.
