Aide MemoireThe world begins and ends in memory;
what I remember is what I am.
Did that blade of grass I plucked
as a boy to vibrate with my breath
really burst the air with shrillness?
A remembered world holds truth
and realities far clearer than echoes.
In the cupped hands of remembrance
the thin green reed of what we are
trembles with a sound so rare.
From: Leaving Holds Me Here: Selected Poems. Saskatoon: Thistledown Press, 2001.