_________________________________________________________________________
The Drift of the World
You are not forgotten. How could so large a part of us ever be?
When you left this life, a marker dropped. Time swirled slowly past, and who
we remembered you as worked itself free. But even if current carried your memory
off, tide brought you back. We forgot a little, then remembered more. And through
that give and take, you stayed right here. The only thing that washed downstream
was the way we remembered you. All we need is to narrow our vision—
focus on what matters—and back you come, perfect, as if in a dream,
your one hand lifted in a wave. You remember us! And we have forgotten
nothing, nothing. How could we? If we forgot you, we would be lost. Never
mind that other shore—where we supposedly go and you are supposed to be
waiting. In this world, this world, we have to have you, have to remember.
Why won’t life stop? Why must it always pull everything, even you, away? We
stand right here where this all began and watch as the memory of you (who
we are – what else?) drifts. We do what we can: we keep forgetting you.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Daniel Wolff‘s latest book of poems is More Poems about Money (Four Way Books, 2022). [“The Drift of the World,” written for poet William Bronk, first appeared, in a slightly different version, in The Literary Review.]
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Daniel Leary, Bill in a Red Chair, monotype, 20 x 16, 1997. Portrait of William Bronk (1918–99).
Go to Source
Author: Terence Winch
