Tomorrow’s Memory

Photo: Adam Ickes

 

“They do not remember who they are.”

The old man’s voice was somber without judgment. A skill born of patience shaped by the combined weights of history and time.

“It is why I brought them here.”

The elder regarded his visitor. His dark eyes pools of wisdom deeper than the lines upon his skin.

A silence stretched.

“They will not find it in this place,” Sorrowful Skies said finally.

Disappointment filled the woman’s face.

“They will sleep in the lodge tonight,” he added. “Tomorrow, they will walk like their ancestors. In bare feet on breathing land. Then they will remember.”

 

 

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

 

Alike, Not The Same

Red3 AmitaiAsif

Photo: Amitai Asif

 

We all want to be cherished,

To be known by our name.

But like flowers in meadows,

We’re alike, not the same.

It does not do to lump us

Identical, in one frame.

For like leaves of a tree,

We’re alike, not the same.

Varied hopes, many wishes,

Different dreams of acclaim.

Like the shells on a shore,

We’re alike, not the same.

Each of us has the power,

To bring hope or bring shame.

Pick just one of us too early,

And the world’s never the same.

 

 

For The Daily Post

Definite Identity

Berlin streetart3 InbarAsif

Photo: Inbar Asif

 

“The fact of being

Who or what

A person

Or thing

Is.”

A name.

A self.

A singularity.

A distinct

Individuality.

A recognition of

An original

Personality.

 

(Poem inspired by the Oxford Dictionary)

 

For The Daily Post