Dust

What we think about
is our motion
almost never our stillness
What we dig into
is our past
almost never our future
We make tunnels
through the fallout
through the stretch
of remains that lie
from there to here
We climb our tree
and rummage
through our ancestors
searching for a likeness

In a rush of motion
we unearth
unfamiliar roots
locks of hair
faded photographs
old reading glasses
bundles of letters
and dried roses pressed
in between tattered pages
of secret love journals

We almost never think about
the future that it all comes to
when the dust
falling from our hands
is a weightless net
cast over the attic floor
The burden of years
having amassed their toll
their detachments their indifferences

—Dah

 

BIO: Dah is the author of two books of poetry, In Forbidden Language and The Second Coming, both published by Stillpoint Books. His poems have appeared in numerous reviews, and are forthcoming in, Orion Headless, Sandy River Review, Stone Voices, Berkeley Poetry Review, Miracle Magazine, and 21st Century Poets Anthology. His third book of poetry is due for publication in 2014, also from Stillpoint Books. He is currently working on the manuscript for his fourth book of poetry. Dah lives in Berkeley, California, where he teaches yoga, meditation, and deep relaxation to children and adults.