By Steven Wade Veatch
I see you in
the fading photo looking back at me.
Evidence
that shows you lived.
I wonder who
you were, touching the world,
learning in
a one-room school, following
a deer trail,
and then working in a gold mine.
Nothing else
mattered. Just years passing by.
You stepped
into an unknowable darkness,
then you were
gone, and your possessions disappeared—
one
by
one.
As your
world collides with mine,
I ask:
What will
I leave behind?
A yearbook,
a photograph album, postcards, letters.
Will they go
to a museum?
Or a
dumpster?
Will they
fill a cigar box?
I am lucky,
I filled
someone’s
heart.
A young miner in the Cripple Creek Mining District. Photo circa 1899. Courtesy of the Cripple Creek District Museum. |
No comments:
New comments are not allowed.