Take Care of Itself - Nov 22 2025

 

Take Care of Itself

Nov 22 2025

I can’t help but revisit the past.

I’m a barge

dredging through memory

and stirring up silt,

its big scoop

reaching to the bottom

beneath the turbid water

digging blind.

Sometimes, I’m an archeologist;

down on my knees

sifting the soil

with fine toothed instruments,

sweeping off my finds

with soft little brushes.

Exposing them

to the harsh light of day,

the corrosive air

that reduces everything

to its elements.

But more often than not

I’m up at night,

leaving a warm bed

and stumbling through the dark

over something I dropped

lost track of

forgot,

or never put in its place

from the start.

So I can search for the past, or not;

either way

it's always there.

As fossilized remains,

small bones

and broken ones

time turned to stone.

A mummified body,

like the prehistoric man

found in a bog

with a rope around his neck.

Or a decomposing one

buried alive;

in the dark of night

weighted down

and dumped over the side.

Good memories, but mostly bad.

Although it seems we are biased 

toward negativity;

human nature

trying to learning from the past

as best it can

to save us from ourselves.

The future is even harder to know.

You plan, hope, project.

Pursue the path you set.

Or simply drift,

because inertia is easiest.

And because there’s all the time in the world

until there’s not.

So really, the now is all that’s left.

Being present,

living in the moment

oblivious to the next.

And always 

forgiveness, as well.

Especially to yourself.

Despite the amends

you failed to make,

the regrets

you’ll take to your deathbed.

And never believe it

when they say they have none,

taking a last breath

and holding your hand in their 

cold and wasted one.

They’ve simply perfected

the art of forgetting;

learned too well

to let the past take care of itself.