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The Gathered Estate

On the Art of Preservation

By Tim CarmichaelPublished 3 months ago 1 min read

What heavy sweetness fills the basket worn

Each berry stains my fingers dark with proof

That summer yields her treasures to be torn

From thorned embraces on the garden floor.

I gather what the season deigns to give

And in my gathering I become the earth

That holds all things which struggle still to live

That knows the burden of both life and death

My grandmother kept letters in a tin

Paper, delicate like moth wings lost to time

Each word a seed she planted deep within

The soil of memory where the past is fed.

I read them now and feel her young hands

holding each one

As she preserved what time would try to take.

For gathering is an act against the void

A defiance of the way all matter falls

To entropy and dust we are employed

As keepers of the fleeting as it calls.

So when I hold a photograph and see

The faces of the ones who came before

I am the vessel where their memory

Remains alive though they exist no more.

We gather because loss is absolute

We gather because love demands we do

We press the flower and preserve the fruit

And make from scattered moments something true.

fact or fictionFamilynature poetry

About the Creator

Tim Carmichael

Tim is an Appalachian poet and cookbook author. He writes about rural life, family, and the places he grew up around. His poetry and essays have appeared in Bloodroot and Coal Dust, his latest book.

https://a.co/d/537XqhW

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    The story invoked strong personal emotions

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Comments (3)

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  • Sandy Gillman3 months ago

    This is absolutely breathtaking, every stanza feels rich and purposeful, like a living memory.

  • Caitlin Charlton3 months ago

    🍒Ooo very nice. I like the berry stains as proof for the sweetness. - thorned embraces. That is such a vivid image. It brings us close to the soil, close to nature. 🍒wow. In my gathering I become the earth. I feel like I've become the earth, after reading that line. At least wanting to be as in touch as you are. - love how we know the papers are aged, through how delicate they are 🍒her young hands holding each one 😍 - 'you are the vessel where their memory...' oh my, this line. It's not just poetically beautiful. But it is true. 🍒 I absolutely loved all of this all the way to the ending the rhythm so tender, so sweet like the berries. Nostalgia sweeping the floors of your poem. Outstanding work Tim ♥️🤗🖤

  • Darla M Seely3 months ago

    Tim! This is the best poem I have read of yours so far. It is truly a maginicent poem and straight from your heart. I wish I could share it with my facebook friends. I wish you would read someof my poems. A friend, Darla

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