Memory

One day tells its tale to another,
and one night imparts knowledge to another.
Although they have no words or language,
and their voices are not heard,
their sound has gone out into all lands,
and their message to the ends of the world.

Psalm 19:2-4

In the beginning, the memory barely fits
a Times Square video screen.
In the end, the image is wallet sized.

In addition, there is an altered state:
the uncarved block becomes a sculpture;
the portrait of a lady becomes a smile.

In the beginning, myriad details cling
to the core event. Incessant winds
of the mind erode the loose periphery

and one by one, over a long life,
the less essential falls away
into forgetfulness. In the end,

the stripped-down core event—
some instance of love, triumph or shame—
remains intact forever.

Nineteenth Sunday after Pentecost
October 8, 2023