Transforming Walls into Maps
by anne cunningham
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
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We wish to pinky swear and meant it,
believing everything done and over is gone,
ancient history to us, the end of an era.
Yet future gain demands defying this,
implying instead that we move through,
versus going around, to get beyond.
We are merely inaccurate historians,
if we are unable, or unwilling, to dig
for what lies buried in molt and ash.
A dirty job it is to dive in, struggle free,
picking through the remains of our days,
the shattered pieces once thought whole.
It may seem the bulk is better left dead,
but best instead to toe-tag and categorize,
giving everything a name before final burial.
It is interesting and rewarding to see,
finally what's left in much smaller pieces,
of what was thought to be the big picture.
The parts of whole salvaged, what remains,
walls busted to pebble-fine rubble,
becomes the firm ground we walk on.
Sometimes this means digging whole days,
finding nothing to protect under tarps,
marking off only what is lost or damaged.
But the occasional piece that falls free,
serves to complete the remaining puzzle,
providing the map we need to continue.
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|Reviewed by Sue Hess
|Reviewed by Elizabeth Taylor (Reader)
|Wow. I would have to agree with Cherokee here. This is really a thoughful poem, Anne.
|Reviewed by Cherokee Sage
|A very wise lady.