What Will Remain
When you leave
your medals and your ribbons
will not go
with you.
Your letters of commendation,
your framed list of degrees and attainments,
the contests you won––
these will all be
left behind.
What will remain
is some sort of half memory,
some kind of recollection
of someone you loved
and who loved you
in return.
The runaway at the corner
that you gave a coin to
on your way to work,
the addict pleading for
a bit of change
that you paused and encouraged,
the woman who came to clean
that you listened to carefully
while she told you her sorrows.
Somehow they will all be there,
wavering figures from your past,
like images imprinted on melting wax,
faded photographs shut
in your drawer.
They will open their arms
as you draw near.
You will accept their embrace
and finally feel love without
restrictions,
endless, replete,
love without cause
or purpose beyond itself.
Dorothy Walters
September 6, 2017