Friday, December 3, 2010

So Much Unknown

So Much Unknown

But who shall so forcast the years
and find in loss a gain to match?
Or reach a hand through time to catch
The far-off interest of tears

Alfred Lord Tennyson 1850 In Memorian

Riffling photos so much unknown;
unasked, the dog’s name, the smell of the park
the colour of a hat lost now, no eyes to see,
when so many days lay ahead; but
the tunnel ends, alone now with cast off bags
no one spoke, when there is time to hear
your friends name, the make of the car
All orphans to the world suddenly alone
Questions for empty rooms, empty mirrors
but who shall so forcast the years.

A legacy of things holds freight
a story of a first this or that
weddings, service, gifts cold things
warmed by a breath of life
Held now as your absent hand
For memory, words, stories meaning attach
to the humblest thing, the simplest occasion.
Identity itself is risked in every loss
and life itself will clutch and snatch
and find in loss a gain to match?

Or in gain a loss to hatch
For each day is not a puzzle to unravel
And some nights, peace is best
Every occasion is not greater
Then the sound of dice in your hand
Sometimes from the present we detach
new memories for old a warm touch for cold.
Like a child with a favourite book reread.
Striving with every moment to stretch
Or reach a hand through time to catch

a moment once wasted now wanted.
It seems that age can only embrace
what comes it’s way regardless.
Each loss, each parting
each cold alone awakening.
Those unanswerable fears.
change callow youth to miser
hoarding half remembered days.
Some long delayed reckoning nears
The far-off interest of tears

This version Sept4/05

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