Photo by Marcus Elman with Maat in Paris
We are what’s left.
We are the remains.
We are the tongue of the dead and the silent.
We are what they were thinking.
They are crawling inside of us,
inside our gall, willing us to remember everything.
They are on parade in our unconscious
deciding when and where.
We are what’s left.
We are the dim hope of the gone.
Us: our hands and voices.
Hear them screaming for just one more day to love
and be loved.
We are what’s left,
we are the remains of love.
© 2010
