Still Life

Barbara Novack

The bowl of fruit on the well set table
the pitcher unpoured
the cloth unstained.
What is the meaning
of the arrangement?
There is a longing
in the pieces,
still life.

Beneath the layers of dust
there is our life
half remembered.
Memento memories, artifacts
of an archaeological dig,
a hole in the ground,
sand to sift
for a bone or two,
a chip of clay hieroglyphed
and untranslated,
a lost language of being.

When they tell our story,
and they will tell it,
they will not get it right.
For we are motes caught in a stream of light,
moments trapped in amber,
pieces of an arrangement
no one can interpret,
yet still life.


Copyright © Barbara Novack All Rights Reserved.

This Poem has been viewed 1605 times