The
past is not just a word for something that is behind us.
It
is a song to be sung even when our voice is without sound.
My
breath and heartbeat are sustained only because
My
trail of tears,
Sobering
realities,
And
momentous bits of pure joy
Were
revealed and respected.
Remnants
of the past are woven into my very existence.
The
past is so wonderfully preserved in my memory,
The
lessons and psalms,
The
stories and poems lamented my younger naïve self.
The
past does not serve as a punishment,
Nor
does it serve to be a vessel of all that is muddy and tainted,
To
be left on a shelf and forgotten.
That
the future with it’s white-knuckled grip,
Will
eventually drop all secrets to the floor,
In
a splatter of shards and slivers,
Revealing
us as human.
No
longer indestructible creatures of perfection.
I
live today for my past got me here,
I
will live tomorrow because of today’s actions.
Tomorrow’s
goal is never to undo what happened to us.
It
is to investigate the source of all that pain embodies.
The
pain is fear.
And
fear is a future without love.
~Talvin C. Beville, Mar.2014