For my Grandfather, Grandmother , aunts, uncles and cousins
whom I never met.

(For the allusion to soap - see Dresden 1944.)



Scraps

I love writing
On scraps,
Sealing the gaps
Of my life.

Covering
The spaces
Of loneliness,
In my head.

Remembering
Those homely faces,
That I've
Lost in the dark.

Only valued in
Soap,
Only I am left,
To remember them,
A whole generation,
Dead.

And I will always
Remember them,
Unknown,
Unloved,
Because I feel that
I knew them.

They weren't just
Stories
That my father told,
They were my bones.




Poetry by Esti D-G
Read 661 times
Written on 2006-08-27 at 12:40

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text


Christian Ward
liked the metaphor

good to see you back again, Esti

xx
2006-08-27


.
Paper memories and photographs take the place of the people we loved and have lost. But we keep them alive in our heart.

This poem is a beautiful creation of your love. Thank you for sharing with us.
2006-08-27