The Memory Guard on Night Watch
We don’t leave home home leaves us first in baby steps then in giant ones taken in stride, until one day in the slope-eyed gray-weathered future a trapdoor cracks open and we fall like feathering marionettes trapped like dust in the slender hands of sunlight onto the surface of the underworld of the heart where all our loved ones and dogs with child hearts disappear like dreams and sighs into the eternity of the swollen sea which demands that after this year as the memory guard on night-watch I start again with baby steps along this unspooled scroll of sand that holds the holy map of every footprint I’ve ever made.
