So Much to Remember

furrows tilled, in straight lines, regular rows

seeds planted long ago

harvested and planted again, and harvested again

until the soil pleaded for a rest

then less planting for 40 years

until the plow was taken up again,

sixty years had passed since the last weeds were pulled

old weeds hung on  with a vengeance

embedded , hard to pull

internalized by the soil

they had become the nature of the ground

stiff, recalcitrant, unyielding, unchanging, unforgiving

but 40 years have gone by  in this field,

old weeds served to bridge the gaps between the furrows

now  time alone,  and not disuse, did fade them out of mind, forgotten

furrows encountered cannot be crossed

but a warning,  take care, remember if possible

that forgetting clears ground without selection, taking the useful and not

what  once flourished will be no more,  gone without pattern or connection

when most are forgotten, the ground breaks

barren patches must be filled,

to cross the furrows , to get from here to there

to be able to turn faces towards  the sun

see that elevator door, the door is closed

point and press,  point and press

to no avail,  the door will not budge no matter how many times 

a car key is pointed at the elevator