Custodian Of Memory - The Keeper Of The Gate Poem by Tony Cemaluk

They thought the compound fell
Because its walls were low and loose,
Because its gates were wooden and weak,
Because its zinc had rust and dust.

They were wrong.

A compound does not fall
By low walls.
It falls when it forgets —
When no one remembers the genesis,
The sharing tape, the measurement,
The length and breadth,
From here to there.

Whose foot first cleared the bush,
Whose hand first laid the stone,
Whose name must not be erased.

My mother remembered.
Every detail.
She witnessed with her husband
And relayed after all men meetings.

While others slept,
She kept the lamp.
While others scattered,
She kept the names.
While others sold the story
For a plate of peace,
For a piece of crumb,
She kept the archive in her chest,
And relayed to the document immortalizer.

She became the gate.
Not of iron,
But of memory.

For what is a gate,
If not memory standing?
What is defense,
If the children no longer know
Where they come from?

She stood.
And because she stood remembering,
The compound still stands.
Always.

— From Four D Originator
— Dearly, Duly, Digitally Documented, Immortalized.