I honor memories
as ancestors,
grateful for their
prescience (true or not),
forgiving their gaffes
(always one-sided),
and welcome the
entourage of feelings
into the tired space
of a weight reclaimed.
Yet even the loudest
of us goes silent
when, through the same
door, comes the
ephemeral Present,
wearing a gown
sparkling with vision
and possibility
with its breathtaking risk.
Unbound by time,
all of us – beggar
and beauty – belong
in this dance of what is
and what will be.
We come as ourselves
in every moment.
Amada Reza
July 6, 2024