Capturing the Feeling

2022-01-22

"...the cold's mood would be agreeable as it opened its vulnerabilities to the warmth, and she would lay in it, like a cat in nirvana, and I would be beside her, looking at her, knowing her presence, her silence, as just persuasions for me to be with her." We often forget people, we forget their faces. We forget the cut of his jaw, or the slope of her breast. We forget the texture of her hand as it held ours, the pucker of her ...

"...the cold's mood would be agreeable

as it opened its vulnerabilities to the warmth,

and she would lay in it,

like a cat in nirvana,

and I would be beside her,

looking at her,

knowing her presence, her silence,

as just persuasions for me to be with her."

We often forget people, we forget their faces. We forget the cut of his jaw, or the slope of her breast. We forget the texture of her hand as it held ours, the pucker of her nose as she laughed, we forget the galaxy of freckles on his back, or how her skin folded next to her thighs. Time robs so much away, often with heartbreak, often as a healer.

But what we don't forget about people is how they make us feel.

The warmth she spread with that laugh, the quiet recognition of worth he gave with his being, the comfort in her steady voice as the world crashed around, the definition of value embedded in the aromas of his kitchen, the magnetic charm of her mind as she spoke of a book, the serenity found on her breast after a long day of sighs.

Life's trajectory is determined not by the events or the crisis or the highs of happenstances - these are a given, a must, if you live life long enough. A person's memory, her longevity in our blood, the persistence of his lingering trace, are all factors of what we know about ourselves whenever we were with them. The legacy of people is less a cumulation of our experiences with them, and more a residue of their dust and stardust.

The tactility of memory is an algorithm of the pleasure, hurt, ache, tenderness, ruin, cheer, kindness, bruising, which life's trajectory leaves in its wake as remembrance. The true worth of life is in what it makes us feel. The true worth of people is what they make us feel.

If you liked this poem, consider listening to these other poems on the beatific beauty of the sun -