YOUR SEPIA FACE
By Bill Frayer
(In honor of the Day of the Dead)
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.