Relic

LINDA KLEINBUB

This poem was a reflection of a situation I experienced.

We rush about gathering pages.

What colorful lament leaves regret?

Leaves we’ve meant to photograph.

We gaze up looking for stars

Building the sun.

The equality of secrets,

Secrets positioned,

Pruned and tied neatly along the fence.

Task at hand becomes a distraction:

Phone calls unanswered,

Voices unheard,

Messages unread.

Is there serenity in the steps you shuffle?

And what comes of the pages?

Myths of scorn and greed

Blanketed in the silence of memory lost.

We return again to meditate

As we move along underground tracks

Through underwater tunnels.

We gather again.

A scrap of ideas,

A phrase of prayer,

A creation, we made.

Our ancestor’s assignment remembered.

What will be remembered?

In this rhythm beaten down

Generations lost,

A faded photograph—

Only to be slipped between the pages

Folded to form a book,

Book to be passed on

To future relations

Still unknown,

Still unconceived.

Held on by tradition.

Held on by a string.

Held on until your grasps fails.

Let go.

Are we left empty handed?

What imprint in the dust?