"Sometimes memory is the only gift we give ourselves and the only hope we have of finding our way home."
American Speaker/Writer
1949 -
Here is the poem from which this quote comes:
First Love
by Harley King
A purple sun rises
from the ashes of her soul
and changes the color
of heaven. I play chess
with God and listen
to His stories about the old days
when Abraham walked
by His side and David wrote
songs of love. She died
in a car crash at the age
of sixteen, at a time when
we both were virgins and
Martin Luther King was
assassinated in Memphis.
Even God cheats at chess
and forgets to take a shower.
Hold my hand, she said as
she led me down to the muddy lake
where we gazed at a yellow moon
and traded kisses for a few
precious moments. Sometimes
memory is the only gift we
give ourselves and the only hope
we have of finding our way
home. I listen to God belch
and wish that I could hold
her hand one more time before
the sun rises over my grave.