Here is a poem I wrote, days out of the army…
There was a time we were all together
At that time we had nothing but each other
If the sun rose or stars fell
Creepy silence, hush quiet surrounded us
In one moment, not a collection
But one everlasting moment
We felt the fire in our blood
In our souls
The fire was shared—the boiling warmth
The unaware setting
of the infinite metal
Dave Edgar, 1986
Here I am, adding a new feature, my writing and other nonsense. I am taking up this possibility to show up more, make myself vulnerable, put my stuff out there, all to see what happens or does not happen…
Down in the Cellar:
Down in the cellar is where the bodies are. These days they are only bones separated from their flesh. but sometimes, like a flash of lightening illuminating the dark corners of a room, they become animate, talking creatures with their own story to tell. I can see the whisker stubble, smell the clay of their skin and hear their fatigued breath. They are today just bones, but memory makes them alive, gives them voice, gives them meaning.
I used to keep that cellar door barricaded because the living parts of their bodies came up on their own, reaching, and sometimes finding purchase in my life upstairs.
Now the door is wide open, an open invitation, sometimes a dare. A formal request for a visit–a face to face encounter with memory so that the story is not merely a story, but the unavoidable fact of experience.