The usefulness of memory– a password-protected entrance into the excavation of a life already lived. The cognition of bones successfully used, of gray cells compelled to race in the laps of modern progress.
True stories of people aged and edging off the earth, and the rubbing away of surface piles of resourceful, life-giving dirt– a quick trade for cubed live stacking in steel skies. This is how my memories feel to me.
My banks of memory do not easily hold all that successfully instant recollection. Sometimes only electrical storms fire up any noteworthy activity in my archived destiny. Then come days could so easily be erased.
We are losing our human capability for memory as electronic memory replaces and blends with it. So much about poetry comes from memory. Keep yours protected.