the horizon half-remembered
my folk grew
and grew old
Yet I’ve never stood here before I know
the curves of the land drawn in me
How do I know this place?
My mind some structured facsimile for geography?
A genetic memory for place?
I cannot explain but I know
that my soul has been here before
I am fascinated by the notion of genetic memory … that a landscape or place experienced over generations may leave some kind of imprint in the descendants of those generations. A line of hills, a mountain, a river … these things change over time I know but their basic forms can remain constant on a scale far larger than the people living on them. I don’t believe anyone has found any evidence such a phenomena may exist but that’s not about to stop me pondering on it.
What about you? have you ever been to a place or landscape that seemed so familiar to you only to find out later that you ancestors had been there? Thought that they would practically be looking at what you’re seeing now.