not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Monday, April 11, 2011

the cupboard, the glass of the window

the hands that gently laid the cup to the cupboard
the nose that rested against the glass of the window

so many lives unmeasured
measured
unmeasured

and then laid to rest

my touching the cupboard now, the glass
makes no difference

and yet i do

7 comments:

  1. Your words and your photos, really leave me speechless, I recognize a lot of me in what you write

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  2. laura, isn't it good to know that there is someone who understands something of us in the world?

    how can we not touch these things? how can we not celebrate them? mourn them? it seems that this is all there is. and even though it might seem small, this is a mighty great deal.

    xo
    erin

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  3. you are right, the things that belong to us define us...

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  4. laura, perhaps we are even less than this and we belong to them~

    xo
    erin

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  5. I get a tingling sensation when I touch certain things around me, memories and sensations flood on the surface, bubbling,"...so many lives..."


    p.s. I feel like a cad about the comment I left you on the other blog. So sorry!

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  6. rosaria, no! not at all - if it was honest. i appreciate that. it says to me that i wrote it as hard as it deserved to be written. it wasn't supposed to be easy. it's all good. i want you to react honestly. that's what this is all about:)

    and yes, things seem to emanate energy, don't they? especially houses.

    xo
    erin

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  7. but it does make a difference
    you standing right there were
    the photograph was taken

    paying witness to lives and generations
    so we may see their faces
    shake their hands
    mourn with them

    these lives live for me.

    ~robert
    and celebrate their good times

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"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))