Cairns

Memories are fluid.
They often begin solid at the foundation,
becoming thinner and more fragile as they are layered.
Stones stacked atop one another.

Some can be swayed by the slightest wind
without our realization.
The smallest stones plummeting unnoticed.
Lost forever in the shifting sands.

We work to preserve them;
cementing with photographs and film.
Yet these only capture the visual,
leaving the words and feelings unpreserved.

Are our efforts futile
if remembrance can so quickly come unglued?
If recollection is ever a victim of time?
I think not.

My heart says the memories that last
are not the specific or the tangible.
They are the beautiful generalities.
The constant and repeated knowledge
of those things that are and will always be there.

Child’s hands,
tiny or wrinkled.
Grandfather’s words,
ageless and wise.

Breathing.
God.
Smiles.
Melodies.
Butterflies.
You.
Me.
The monuments of meaning and hope.