The Old Photograph

These are your roots.
She said: your family.
And I stare at them.
Until my eyes burn,
From lack of blinking.

Stare at the faces,
Black and white smiles,
In the old photograph.
Frozen long ago,
In a moment in time.

These people are long dead.
Gone before I was born,
And yet, they feel
Strangely alive,
As if across distance

They have travelled,
And across time.
It seems so improbable.
How could they be dead,
And yet alive?

Here, but not here?
And suddenly,
I understand why.
I am alive.
And I am here.

And I am them.

14 thoughts on “The Old Photograph

Words, words, glorious words! Give me all of your words!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s