Remembering at the end of time

 

Queen Anne's Lace

 

You ask me what is the last thing I will remember
when—if—I have time for recall as I exit this world.
And I don’t know.  I hope I'll be surprised.
 
I can guess at the first things I’ll remember, though,
as they have centered me most of my life: Queen
Anne’s Lace, for example, with their tiny purple middle.
 
They're always the first flowers I think of before
apple blossoms, peonies, lilies of the valley,
hollyhocks, wisteria, lilacs, azaleas, brown-eyed
 
Susans, and roses. A riot of colors, perfumes, and
insects come among these angels of the land,
and I welcome them in the heat of the sun.
 
And then the trees I’ve hugged, including apple,
sycamore, and pine trees—especially the climbing
tree, a white pine shaded deep in Grandmother’s woods.
 
I’ll remember family and people I worship with and 
those with whom I build beloved community.
The taste of the food—both potluck and hosted.
 
I’ll remember hearing poetry readings and poems—one
or two of my own, Mary Oliver, and snippets from
Shakespeare, Whitman, Dickenson, and others.
 
Ah, the good trouble I’ve been part of!   The spirit
of hugs, kisses, handholding, and laughter among friends.
All that reminds me more exists than this world.

For Sherry's prompt "The Last Things I'll Remember" at What's Going On? 

 

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© 2025 Susan L. Chast