Faded

I.

I never thought
those times would
become faded

Or that my voice might be
the spectre of the past
calling out,
reminding you,
reminding me,
of something…

…something indistinct
but important,
locked away in memory,
in childhood,
in these faded photographs
of who we used to be
but can never be again.



II.

I never thought
those times would
become faded,
but these photographs
tell the true story,
that we weren’t who we
thought we were,
and we still aren’t,
and it’s only by a trick
of the mind
and avoidance of the sight of our old bad
hair cuts
that we convince ourselves
that nothing’s changed.



III.

Sometimes something
indistinct can tell us
more than something precise,
because what is essential
is dynamic and can’t be captured…

…we can only be reminded of it,
and experience it anew.

We have memories and feelings
about the past
but no more moments of it.



IV.

I look out the window,
watching the grey weather
quietly drop snow onto Northampton
as I write down some thoughts
that came to me
after looking at these old pictures.

I know that one day,
this moment will also fade,
this ink will disappear and
the paper crumble.

Until then
I just want to say:

We still have time
to be who we’ve
always been.



-Jim DuBois
2005?