Thursday, March 26, 2015

37. We write in sand

We write in sand
our lives that pass away,
times tide
stealing memory
with its hungry tongue
in our absence.

Our names go first
through the front door
as it gapes unguarded -
‘do you remember what’s-his-name’
recalled by a blemish,
a misdeed, mostly,
an accomplishment,

Then deeds find the fire escape
and leave
or gain new identities
passed on like a baton
to unwary pseudonyms.

We write in sand,
our names written
in an ink that fades
in the sunlight of years.
The life that we write
yellowing with age
at the turning of each page.

We write in the sand
but, when we return to the cleansing sea,
the real book is opened -
the revelation
of our name
written on the palm
of the hand
that knew our scars.

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