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....