THE BIG QUESTIONS, 26: WITH THIS TOUCH, WE KNOW (IN THOSE HOUSES WHERE WE GREW, HOW SOULFUL ARE THOSE MEMORIES STILL?)

This is Poem #26 in my series of poems in response to the Big Questions to mark National Poetry Month (NaPoMo April 2013). Why do we need to touch those that have touched us? When do know when we must let go? In those houses where we grew, how soulful are those memories still?

 

 

 

 

WITH THIS TOUCH, WE KNOW

 “We tore down the ancestral home. It had termites all over.” –Letter from Home

We go in and out of the chambers of grace
and afflictions in the heart of things at our
own peril. These are houses we scarcely know,

but before long we think we have known,
and cried at every mention of how things were
in those days in those houses where we grew.

We have known them all: the familiar songs,
the loves gone by, the pains forgiven, the hurts
that linger, and all that has touched us we now

want to touch, maybe not with caressing hands
but certainly with steady and soulful embraces
that know how to let go when things must go.

We have known them all already, we have touched
them all. With each touch we have learned to pray.

 -—ALBERT B. CASUGA