old letters postcards color slides
entries in diaries drafts
of letters maybe never sent
fill boxes after boxes after boxes
left to me by my parents and their ancestors
going through them
I sort out letters documents certificates
prayer books with scribbles on the margins
school grades awards old birthday wishes
of all the photographs I only keep the ones
on which I recognize the faces
those of the strangers I have never known
and never will
I ditch
together with the many color slides
of mountains I have never climbed
and never will
and of my parents friends whom I don‘t know
and never will
with whom they somewhere spent good times
all these were part of my dear parents universe
in my world they mean nothing
have no significance beyond allowing me
to glimpse selected moments of the lives of those
who‘ve come before me and have gone
disappearing quietly
into the mists of history
leaving blurred views
as through a frosted window
about their pleasures loves anxieties
catastrophies and tragedies
enough to tease imagination
too pale for certainties
hints from the past
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
old letters postcards color slides
entries in diaries drafts
of letters maybe never sent
fill boxes after boxes after boxes
left to me by my parents and their ancestors
going through them
I sort out letters documents certificates
prayer books with scribbles on the margins
school grades awards old birthday wishes
of all the photographs I only keep the ones
on which I recognize the faces
those of the strangers I have never known
and never will
I ditch
together with the many color slides
of mountains I have never climbed
and never will
and of my parents friends whom I don‘t know
and never will
with whom they somewhere spent good times
all these were part of my dear parents universe
in my world they mean nothing
have no significance beyond allowing me
to glimpse selected moments of the lives of those
who‘ve come before me and have gone
disappearing quietly
into the mists of history
leaving blurred views
as through a frosted window
about their pleasures loves anxieties
catastrophies and tragedies
enough to tease imagination
too pale for certainties
hints from the past
