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Momento mori

We smile back from the pile of photographs,

Ourselves, though younger,

Plus many who no longer change,

As we, still living, do,

While forgetfulness and dates that do not stick

Inch us ever closer towards a final snap

Whose deadening flash will seal

Our endless headlong dash to stay alive.

Sun bleached, the photos stare;

Accusing us because we are alive

And have forgot their names

But for the ones whose love still hurts

Hanging s thread of guilt

On desiccated branches

In the silt of memory.

Brian Hick October 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 14.10.26

 I've hung the family photos in the hall

And started to sort out those that remain;

A jumbled stack, unposed and often blurred,

The sort that get discarded, yet retain

A sense of life being lived, one which insists

On shooting past the confines of the frame

To get on with business of the day

-Like moths escaping from a candle flame.

Their stubborn wildness, cut off heads and feet,

Silent laughter, poked out tongues, recalim

A life the image tries to kill, and stirs

A joy the family set-piece can't retain.

            Momento mori photographs may seem

            But some escape to fill the gaps between.

Brian Hick

©copyright Sally Hick 22.4.22