What it is to remember

A river has begun again to console
the naked stones of summer.

The riverbed sings
of all it lost in the drought.

Frogs croak beside,
reminding all things that
water will return from the clouds
upon the mountain's bosom
heaving with too much regret.

Relief may be found
in the rain carrying the ache of every
unmentionable, into the sea
eventually.

The sea has been known to
cover dark deeds,
to obliterate wrong-doing.

But every wave that wraps
around the shore will whisper
and whisper, whisper again
to me of forgetfulness.

And what it is to remember -
beautiful things.

Jenneth Graser

Photography - Clark Little