Remembering the Future

I was once told:
Remembering the past is easy,
it’s remembering the future
that’s difficult.

Those words have
haunted and challenged
me for many years now,
during which time
I have struggled
to come 
to terms with
the gift of triple vision – 
of seeing the now,
but always in the light
and in the shadow
of the then and the yet.

There is no
written guide 
passed down,
passed along, 
merely
stumbling along as best
as possible
hoping this technique
is adequate, 
knowing that it is not.

How is it
that I arrive 
at these places
of semi-understanding,
quasi-comprehension
out of my depth,
facing the breadth
of clear perception and
shaded sight,
opening 
like a giant maw
of uncertainty before me?

Questions 
unanswerable,
barely asked
as I move beyond
the mist held past
and toward
the fog shrouded future.

Berries Mark the Spot

The berry nodules bursting
at the slightest touch,
juice running down my hand
bloody red arterial flowings,
at the doom drenched corner
where here or elsewhere
an end may well be met
breaking free the bonds
of nerve and sinew
taking the victim cascading
in death upon the banks
of a farther shore.

The berries in themselves
sweet and luscious,
but the other vision overlaid
shakes the joy of eating,
partaking only to be made
stronger for what seems
to rest ahead
in misty shroudings.

The bloody harvest,
paradox irreconcilable,
compounded
in the danger and delight
drawn from the hedgerow’s
corner harvest,
waiting  as insides clench
for any speeding vehicle
could be the catalyst of casualty.

The last bright Summer
fading into Autumn,
the time of foreseen fate
lurks over the horizon
days or weeks beyond
human reckoning,
will a destiny unfold
shattering hope,
destroying desire,
devastating an unhealed heart,
for the one left behind
where berries mark the place?