I Want You to Remember a Sound

 I want you to remember a sound, 

 thunderous explosions against the bodies of mountains, 

sheets of ice cracking and sliding off in violent showers, 

enveloping life below in its whiteness.  

 I want you to remember a sound,

 the undoing of the zip of your tent, 

the first ray of light burning your eyes, 

the dawn chorus bringing new blood in your skin.

I want you to remember a sound,

 the sunset calling the sea waves,                                    their musical bubbling, 

their rise, 

their fall, 

their folding and unfolding,

and foam touching your feet.

                                                                                         I want you to remember a sound, the crackle of gravel under your heel.

                                             

      I want you to remember a sound,

      water gurgling in your throat, 

      water sliding down your chin, 

      water moist along your collar 

      and cool on your warm skin.

While you are here I want you to remember the sound of your own voice, 

a sponge for voices of every life you encountered and did not encounter, 

every eye that followed you and did not follow you, 

every piece of music that touched you and did not touch you,

every mind that remembered you and did not remember you

and every heart you won and lost.

                                          ______________