Portraits of a Faceless Past
Portraits of a Faceless Past
Relatives, names on family trees. . . .
We know so little about these people who share our DNA.
What did they think, what did they say?
What were their hopes?
Did they come to pass or wither and die like summer grass?
Did they look a little like me or my mother?
Or some other present-day kin?
Wondering I see their names
Pondering their passion and pain.
This is what I want to know about the folks from long ago.
What made them hope and laugh and cry?
Did they know how to live?
Did they know how to die?
Not just how long ago it’s been.
A photograph is a priceless treasure.
The soul’s in the eyes.
It is a measure of the life that once dwelt within.
If I gaze long enough will I see a glimpse of the person they used to be?
A memoir, a note, or letter
A diary is even better for the thing I want to know.
I plan to leave one before I go
With a few pictures tucked within for my curious next of kin.
Author: Sylvia Kathy Presley
© CopyRight 1999. All Rights Reserved.
Permission to print this beautiful poem was given by my niece,
Sylvia Kathy Presley, on October 12, 1999. Thanks! Kathy You show great talent.
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