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A Poem a Day to Millennium  26 September 1999
 

You Gave Me a Sheaf of Yellowed Poems

Today began yesterday:
I read far more than I intended,
But the texture of having lived
The same life under two skins
Was not easily set aside.
In the dream that remains
From 1966, there is a darkhaired girl
Reading in a tiny winter bedroom
Under a bold blanket checked with
Six inch red and black squares.
You understand that I am largely no
Different now than then, as
I understand how much remains of
Life lived in you.
We cannot cast each other out
Into that again, so we will not,
Even in the face of sorrow and
Imperfections of making do.
The dreams of lostness and
Danger are the common ground
We've walked, paced, trampled,
Rolled blindly upon to
Put out the flames.
They are our heritage and we
Now parcel them out between us
Like Roman coins, a Caesar for you,
A Minerva for me.
We will go on together regardless
Of what the months or years bring
To pass as otherness:
That isn't even a promise,
Merely a simple fact based
In our very existence.
There are some loves
One cannot leave.
- David W. Mitchell
 

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