Great, ominous feel to this one, Anita. I think we all have moments like this where we weigh our past against the future and can really see ourselves with clarity.
Sheila

the fallen sands are unmeasurable, your poem unlocks the moments seed ...

I hang on your every word here, building breathless-and-breathtakingly to that stunning and well weighted/waited (!!) open-ended conclusion. This is sheer brilliance, Anita, and all your poems are so well worth the wait! You never lose your touch and the musicality and beauty of your diction is sweet indeed. Especially love the concept of "Moments seed the root of years" - so visual! So glad to see you back and thank you for your lovely visits to my pages. xx

Wonderful use of metaphor, allowing the imagination to appoint its symbolic meaning to the common in the uncommon place, i.e., sand as a lubricant, moving through our hands, performing a removing of dead cells, cells past their usefulness, allowing new life to sprout and live on. The idea that memories are forever imprisoned, save the mind finding a way to embrace, rather than attempt to exile them. You've managed to say a great deal with a few well chosen words. Well done.

Very beautiful and vibrant with fate and wisdom.

You write the pulse of our lives. You, the poet...the real poet...see into everyone of us personally....especially me.
Beautiful!
Love,
Susan