Clarity at 32,000 feet

i stand outside doors which once
opened into honeyed heat and into places
where i understood "home" a thousand ways.

but my key no longer grants access
and i discover disappointment
amongst frosted asters
and darkened windows.

what else is there to do
but acknowledge this new reality
and begin the hard labor
of sorting memories
and discarding the unnecessary?

yet, not all is sent to an amnesic river.
some remembrances i savor
and press into wax so that they
may outlast natural forgetting.

someday i will rediscover them
tucked away in books
and in boxes
and will feel surprise and nostalgia

but for now
i shove them into dark recesses
of my carpetbag
and strike out for those glimpses of promise
which flash against my eyes
like hope in a pan.