Memories are like boxes sometimes.
You can close the lid and toss them into the bin, believing they’re done.
But as you pick up that larger box to throw them all away,
Those little suckers will come tumbling out like a waterfall.
When you bend over to pick up one, three more flip to the floor.
When you place those back on top, a whole passel come plummeting out,
As if they’ve got to make a nose-dive to the base level.
Almost like dominoes, they come cascading down the path.
Will they relent? Will they end?
They come back with every holiday and trend.
They push their way into every crevice, every crack,
Reaching for a new freedom, seeking shelter from what has been.
Will they be cast down? Will they bend?
I place them in the dark, into the new room
Waiting to surprise a new, non-alerted bloke
Waiting in earnest anticipation to capture another one’s journey bouncing down memory lane.
For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I create…
Isaiah 65:17-18
the grizzle grist mill 