leaf

lifeanddeath

leaf

 

it rests, withered and upright

on the mantle

like an ancient fan displayed in a museum

an incredible shell of a memory -

            if i revived its purpose

            dragged it through the air

            it would crackle and splinter

            the current would go right through it

what does it matter to be remembered

when all human memory fades?

when we forget our droughts

but see the remnants? the land is parched

and we are desperate for water

is it better to forget?

i cannot pump water into its veins

perhaps that is my real grief - i cannot

create life, even in something

so small

the corpse of memory rests on the mantle -

the reminder that all my love manifested

will someday turn, bloat,

and shrivel away

makes me happy or sad

depending on the day