Later in the Day

May 19, 2006

I have forgotten my past. Not by any intention of mine,
but by omiting to refresh my memory on a regular basis.
All I have our flashes: a blue pool, a half-blind border collie, pain.

Love is learning to let go. Robert Puff said, “I knew what to give up.”
Each choice eliminates infinite possibilities once open, fresh, vital.
How, then, can we choose, and stay happy? Christmas morning is so sad.

Does my past belong to me? How could it? I did not choose it,
I did not prepare the way for it, and, now, though I carry it with me,
it is shrouded in darkness; “My” past is not mine, but in relation to me.

When I sit still, I hurt. My mind starts remembering for me,
The slow drain of loneliness, being teased by my brother's friends,
Or (darkly) the terror of waking up, 6-years old, alone in the house.

When does the human race ever sit still? Do Buddhists get together and do nothing?
Children are sometimes at peace. The West loves to plan ahead
Working ahead, looking forward to the day of rest.

Keith, the pain will go away, in time. Joy is not merely in memory, nor soley momentary.
If “our body is our sub-conscious mind,” then these pockets of darkness
are presents, waiting to be unwrapped in the quiet morning light.

Glory to God alone.