Remembering Past Springs Poem by Daniel Brick

for Mary

In English when we miss someone,
we say, 'You were on my mind, '
as if you stood upon a platform
called MIND and witnessed
my thoughts in the instant
of their birth, straight through
their existence, until new thoughts,
equally yours, crowd them out.
Such is the destiny of whatever
cliche or metaphor we choose.

Other times it may be a deceased
loved one who occupies our minds.
So a brother and a sister,
even in different cities,
will feel the almost living
presence of their mother.
Perhaps both hear an echo of
her chiding wisdom, or they
recall in their separate
realities a flash of humor
that made everyone at the table
laugh. Or a long ago vacation
in June suddenly returns when
you see a stand of young aspen
trees, and there is Mom, trying
to hide from the camera. Memory
evokes her presence, and it is
a presence that still lives
inside us. Isn't it remarkable
that such miracles still occur?

Still I wonder, how can our small
memories, even when we combine them,
follow after the fleet progress
of Time which keeps moving relentlessly
while we stop and look backward into
those past joys, when both Mom and Dad
were with us, and reality was one and
whole. Even as I say that thought
Time has taken its huge steps away from
human love. And once again we must catch up
or be lost alone in a separate reality.

But recall the platform of MIND. It is
a kind of playfulness with reality
scaled down to the dimensions of
a playmate. And you can laugh or cry
or both, because real things -
trees, cars, picnic baskets, keys,
books, baseballs, knitting-
all of them become infinitely
malleable and fit in whatever niche
of your mind welcomes them. And then,
then the heaviness of events lightens,
even dissolves in a remembrance of joy.
Isn't it remarkable that such miracles
occur?