Notes About The Poem
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Framed
Is a photograph more than just light
briefly persuaded into form?
Is it perhaps a small remainder~
a breath held in brightness,
a trace of being
still alive in the frame?
Is what remains more than image,
more than chemistry or code.
Is it perhaps the quiet vibration
of someone once present,
their energy lingering
in the captured glow.
Do old photographs
hold the faint radiance
of a life leaning forward~
a soft intention,
a body of light,
still reaching across time.
Perhaps a photograph
is a thin place of presence,
where the living and the once-living
meet for a moment
in the framed interior of light.
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