Statues and plaques or a warmth in someone's heart. How will you be remembered?
Statues and plaques - we seldom see;
we don’t look or pay attention.
Yet they are a part of our history.
Their call from the past: “Remember me.”
seems beyond our comprehension.
I saw him from across the square,
his studied gaze was so intent.
I felt his pull, drawing me there
and though I was very aware,
I wondered “Why did I assent?”
He sat there in a burnished coat,
his eyes affixed upon a page
inscribed with some forgotten quote
that long ago someone had wrote
said by an unremembered sage.
It was his eyes that did engage
for I could tell that he could see
beyond the silent rusted page
the world around him, like a stage,
displayed a new reality.
Through years of sunshine and of rain
he watched with curiosity
as the actors overcame each pain
and discovered happiness again
without any animosity.
Upon his face, a gentle smile
as though our struggles touched his heart,
as thought his wait had been worthwhile.
Yet his wisdom, garnered without guile,
remained within this work of art.
And so I gently touched his hand
to reassure him, he’d been heard,
to let him know I understand -
life isn’t always how we planned …
but then I saw a single word.
I don’t know how I didn’t see,
yet, somehow, of its own accord,
his hand stretched out poignantly
pointing his message out to me:
“Patience is its own reward.”
In the end, the name doesn’t matter;
it’s only the truth that we share.
Long after my ashes scatter,
if my words aren’t just chatter,
those I’ve touched will continue to care.
… and I can’t hope for more.
An entry for September’s "SENIOR CENTER FORUM" [ASR]
Prompt: “Remember Me”
The photograph is “The Scholar in Bronze” taken by a friend visiting Cambridge, England.
Thank you for taking time to read my words. I would appreciate it if you took a moment and left a comment. Your reaction, impressions, criticisms, - yes, even praise are all equally welcome.