Gary Witt

Of A Moment - Poem by Gary Witt

My first memory: the deep scar
There in the trunk of that tree;
The black, flat, heart-shaped mark
Where a steel saw once supervised
An impromptu amputation.
I touched the flat, ragged center,
Unaware of the previous event;
Remembering nothing
Before my small fingers met
That rough-hewn wound.
But after, after that single touch,
Silver, dusty, pungent bark
Would peel off in my hands,
Red and orange crabapples
Lay namelessly on the ground,
Unencumbered by language;
And the wind parted spangled leaves
To allow the sun between.

Returning today to that very place
After finishing some obscure chore
I paused wondering what will be
My last, my final memory;
How long I might carry it,
And whether it will stay
As vivid as the absent limb
From a crabapple tree.

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Comments about Of A Moment by Gary Witt

  • (12/8/2007 2:57:00 PM)

    The memory is chogged of pruned away moments... this is remarkable of telling and philosophical to an end infliction - thank you (Report)Reply

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, September 23, 2007

Poem Edited: Monday, April 11, 2011

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