It comes to us gently,
This confrontation with the void.
First, it’s a lost phone number,
Or a password to some account,
Then names or faces that draw a blank,
And one day, this gnawing sensation
That a huge chunk of our lives,
Has been washed down the river,
Never to be found again in its entirety;
At best, occasional flotsam
Will bring back memories
Of a shared moment,
A fleeting smile,
Some casual remark,
And the realization
Of the enormity of the ever-growing void.
5/5/06
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem