the hand written word leaves behind an imprint of the soul.
the curve of the letter, the spacing,
the light or the fervent press of
ink to page, to card, to wall~
all tokens and clues of
the mind behind the hand that wrote.
cherish the flourish and scribble in
an age that no longer cares for
the soul-print underpinnings of communication.
the long hand note vibrates and wins the day
years after its tucking away in a keepsake box.
there are no keepsake boxes for digital text.
stand in the kitchen with 50 year old recipes of
blue ink on yellowing paper, the many she left behind,
and hold the ream to your heart.
feel your heart grow physically warmer.
she remains in the imprint, the chopped walnuts,
and teaspoons of lemon rind.
she remains in the ink and the warmth of your heart.
Oh. Wow. So powerfully poignant and beautiful, your poem & memories.
ReplyDeleteMy father has been gone 22 1/2 years and it still grips me with strong, strange emotion to see his handwriting.
Sending you love, light & healing as you mark each memorable moment, dear friend.
graciel. this is gorgeous soul touching stuff. she remains in the imprint.
ReplyDeletegreat
ReplyDeleteYes, she remains. This makes me think of how much will be lost in the future, so much of what we write, even recipes, being digital now. I'm glad you have those pages to hold onto.
ReplyDelete