Writing a
memoir is
a life’s work.
It has to
be earned
by the lines
of your face,
the wrinkles
of your hands,
the night fears
of your sleep,
the weariness
of your brain,
the failing of
your body,
and finished
just in time.
Tag: archaeology
Mine
I wonder what
he was thinking,
that first man
who chewed a
mouthful of
pigment and
then blew it
over his hand
pressed tight
against the wall
of a cave?
The lost generation
When I see an
unusual
familiar name
in the news,
I think, “Oh
that must be
the daughter
(or son) of
someone who
I once knew”.
Turns out,
these days,
it’s usually
a grandchild.
Tell, a story
In the ancient
city mounds of
the Middle East,
flat layers of mud,
one on top of
the other, are the
squashed remains
of houses and streets,
flat like pages in
a history book,
the lives of people
in each generation,
reduced to a few
inches of mud
baked in a thousand
years of Sun days.
In my memory
houses I have
lived in, one after
the other, from child
to old man,
are also flat pages;
all those years of
rich living, of friends
and family, of sadness
and joy, in sickness
and in health, all
compressed into
a few ghostly
thin memories,
dried by the heat
of life as lived.
nomdeplume 