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The Relic

I don't know the faces in the old photograph, stored in the attic with other relics of lives long past I don't know their names, or the stories etched on weathered foreheads, and in eyes that saw both sorrow and joy. I should have asked their names before grandmother rejoined the family in that old photograph.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 3/19/2024 3:30:00 AM
ah when we don't know names in the photographs, that's when we lose humanity, then..... genocide.
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Date: 3/19/2024 12:10:00 AM
Poem resonates. Trouble is, some photographs are of complete strangers that somehow got included. It becomes a mystery that drives one crazy. Thanks for this one.
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things