YOUR SEPIA FACE

By Bill Frayer
(In honor of the Day of the Dead)

 

 

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Your sepia face stares soberly at me 

From another day, distant from this evening, 

Adorned with marigold blossoms 

And relics of your time among us, 

Which proves to me that you were here

And lived to taste the sour fruits of life

And cried sweet tears for love of those

Who remain, remembering your presence here.

And as I gaze at your framed, faded image

On your vibrant altar, fragrant with breath,

I imagine my family, now long gone

Who live largely forgotten, no color enveloping

Their likenesses with warm, living flowers,

Photographs which remain, unexamined, vaguely recalled,

In a dark box waiting for those who knew them

To pass into the obscurity of memory themselves,

Rendering them forever unremembered.

You are lucky to remain among the breathing

A bit longer, perhaps to remind us all

To look into your sepia face

Reflecting our humble fate.

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