STRANGER IN THE BOX
Come, look with me inside this drawer,
In this box I've often seen,
At the pictures, black and white,
Faces proud, still, and serene.
I wish I knew the people,
These strangers in the box,
Their names and all their memories,
Are lost among my socks.
I wonder what their lives were like,
How did they spend their days?
What about their special times?
I'll never know their ways.
If only someone had taken time,
To tell, who, what, where, and when,
These faces of my heritage,
Would come to life again.
Could this become the fate,
Of the pictures we take today?
The faces and the memories,
Someday to be passed away?
Take time to save your stories,
Seize the opportunity when it knocks,
Or someday you and yours,
Could be strangers in the box.
Written by: Pan Harazim
The author, Pam Harazim, originally wrote the poem when her mother had dementia, and realized the stories her mother loved to tell about her youth and her family were locked inside her, and Pam didn't remember them like she was so sure she always would. Hence, the box of strangers. This is definitely one of those moments when knowing the original story behind the poem brings more insight to the reading.
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