Nestled quietly on an overgrown hillside
I am filled with memories.
Much more than a mere shell
I exist as a living testimony to the past.
I remember the Father
with the face of a miner.
Darkened by the years
of digging deep within the black bowels of the earth.
I remember the Mother
with the hands of a giver.
Wrinkled by the years
of cleaning and mending and tending the garden.
I remember the Children
with the eyes of youth.
Bright with the wonder
of a world filled with simple mountain treasures.
I remember the green fields
planted with summer hay.
The soft fragrances
of herbs and the bountiful garden that fed my family.
I remember the Laughter
and the family gatherings on my front porch.
Sunday readings from the book
of revelations, praising the glory of the Maker’s creations.
I remember the joy of new arrivals,
and the sadness of departures.
A familiar acceptance
of that which simply is and can not be changed by woman or man.
Where are my children now?
They are grown and departed.
They have built new houses
of love and filled them with the joy they once knew within my walls.
Where are my Father and Mother?
they now rest in the field.
Risen from the ashes
and returned to the earth, where I too must follow, my purpose fulfilled.
Nestled quietly on an overgrown hillside
I am filled with memories.
Much more than a mere shell
I exist as a living testimony to the past.
And I Remember.