Darkroom Poem by Laurence Overmire

In every photograph
There is always something
Deviating from the truth of the
Naked eye

Be it black and white
Or a shade less or more of
Incomplete color
A blur of an edge made indistinct
Not fit to the precision of a
Moment of time

There is something lost
In the translation of reality to
Negative images on positive paper
The digital dowsing of what we think
We see

Nothing is ever as it was
Memory itself is riddled with holes
And history is always the fading idea
Of someone else's
Illusion.

~ Laurence Overmire