there are treasures buried.
Beneath the debris of catastrophic events;
earthquakes, tornadoes, fires, floods
I wear a mask as I pick through the memories
hoping not to get sick from them.
Memories,
Charred, buried, blown like trash from a place
that once was familiar and comfortable
into a wild directionless wind.
How exciting to stand here -
like relic, unmoving as the whirlwind erases,
erodes, eradicates.
***
That which I will now follow
is a pebble in my chest.
A pebble I cast
across the lake of my mind.
It skips, skids, tiptoes over the surface of reflection
from Memory to Future,
from Fear to Hope.
***
The pebble gets heavy
and becomes a stone that drops
and disappears into the Here and Now.
***
Waves ripple out from that point
circular and vast
in all directions.
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