Monday, April 30, 2012

Bruce Dawe and the worn coins of memory

Experiences and meetings with people today remind me of the profound truth contained in Bruce Dawe's poem.
Of things just learned about people I knew a long time ago.

The Wallet
by Bruce Dawe
Sometimes, it may be years, it may be less,
a life is merged with yours and then moves on,
but where and how and why may not be known
until much later word comes back
from that far universe as from a star,
and suddenly you're shaken with this sense
that certain lives which occur were once most
immediate to yours have lived and gone
and you have only lately learned
something of how they lived, that precious knowledge

coined in a realm whose currency
is rarely recognised any longer
as legal tender, those worn coins
as memory you can never trade
or spend for what they're worth while still
regretful for your own forgetfulness....

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