She digs and she finds matter
little things like ancient games
foot marks from leap frog,
hide and go seek spots,
and atlatls hidden under
the humans that made them.
She orders a latte with foam,
her mud covered hands
wiping clay off her clothes.
Marks on her face remain
after an itch was scratched.
Dust that never saw the sun
clings to her cheek under her eye.
Would you believe that under it all
there is bone. The only thing that remains
after the cells have died. She digs
she finds nothing and stone.
An artifact the world forgot to keep –
the idea of a fossil
the words that were never said.
Nothing connects her to these things lost.
A vast and omnipresent nothing –
the fabric of our being,
the color of our eyes,
homo sapien questions, she digs
but never finds the reason why
in the end, everybody
is captured by time.
…atlatls… archaeology….My true loves =)
Fantastic poem!
I wish I could write like you. You put into words that which most (including myself) think, but do not know how to express. I love it =)
Unless you’re eaten by a black hole, then time stops for you, eternally there and gone.
Nothing shows time who is boss like plunging head first into a pit of gravity.
word. this is good bro.
thank you sir. Its one of those that sort of came right out of left field.