Why Photographs Are Simply Heartbreaking (Day 16)
A bouquet of fragile expectations—
figures huddled and strung together
like a bunch of poignant flowers
propped up in an imaginary vase
Wishing to capture what is not theirs
to still Time’s beating heart or steal
a frame from a still developing film
making faces into a two-way mirror
Already they gape into the future
at their own fossilized memories
crowded out the heart’s album
and evaporating as vivid dreams
Unbidden like mental hiccups, they will arise
those frozen feeling-tone remembrances
whether jealously guarded in a chest of drawers
or happened upon during unguarded moments
Preserving what no longer is:
lost loves, illusions, or selves...
they fill us with dumb wonder or dull ache—
was that really me, and what have I become?
© Yahia Lababidi
(Images: private collection)
This is my entry for Day 16 of @d-pend's The 100 Day Poetry Challenge. If you're looking to hone your craft (as a writer or Steemian) and discover a sense of community, please, consider joining Steemit School on Discord
Masterful (as always)!
I really love this ponder -- really all the liminal aspects of life and consciousness, memories, dreams, things we cannot touch yet they live in us.
I wrote this piece some years ago late in the night after having stumbled across old photos :https://steemit.com/poetry/@mamadini/p76vb-repente-amissis-dolor
Thank you for this write as it is just what I needed to find this day.
P.S. I'm not one to share a link in a comment, yet, I think it's quite fitting here.
I'm grateful you shared your fine piece, @mamadini, which explores the same slippery territory... liminal, as you correctly put it. Time forbids attachments, to self or other, and we court madness when we attempt to do so. This is the danger of photographs, as I understand it, and what your poem illustrates very well.
Speaking of which, I'm still digesting your confessional piece from a couple of days ago, and stuck on the great tenderness with which you address the final darkness, a sentiment I'm familiar with and have also explored in my art. I quote you to you, and feel I might also be paraphrasing myself, from a poem of mine:
Soft sigh
PS - Emboldened by your share, I attach a link to work of mine. In the poem, titled Allegiances, "Destiny's son" originally read "Death's son" (but I chickened out pre-publication...)
I feel joy that you brought up that rather hard piece (not hard for me any longer as it's all been ironed, rather for those in observance) -- the gritty stuff bears such fruit and I always recognize in others, as I do in you. ;)
I am on my way to read the piece you linked here, thank you.
I adore the title "Death's son"! That piece should be done in spoken word. What a familiar slant it is, especially the third section "Key-bored", it had me in a rather riled up way saying to myself "Right-on" as the words ring true and bring on a sense of rebellion in me and yet, we are moving deeper in that reality. . . Sadly.
Tickled by your warm enthusiasm, M, much appreciated 🤓. I’ve actually never attempted to read this poem outloud, for what it reveals... Though, I’ve shared, publicly, such winking confidence:
I understand what you mean when you say it’s not hard for you, any longer, and I believe/hope/pray that I’m, finally, moving out of these cramped, dark spaces and, tentatively, into the light...
One way that I’ve found helps is to view the past as necessary, somehow, a dark blessing required to take me to the next level (as person and artist). I hope that makes some sense to you 🙏🏼
Indeed it does. : )
:) Thanks, for this nice exchange.
Yes, thank you as well, it was lovely. :)
This is really poignant. I stupidly went through a few albums the other day, knowing I would be overcome. As my father battles with cancer, I too knowingly stared into those fossilized memories, blinking back tears for the selves lost, the man at the drums, with a camera, a snowball, at the beach with a beard and a board, in his army greens, on skis, and there, with his first born daughter, who sits with him now and talks of all and sundry, or in silence, with love.
Bless your heart, moved to goosebumps/near tears to read this... Thank you, for your trust in sharing this. I hope the suffering for you and your dear father might be alleviated.
Strangely, writing about it to total strangers helps the process! Thanks for your well wishes. We are definately enjoying the space we have before things get worse. We are all positive at the moment. I am sure it will be up and down. 💗
Essentially, memories are burdened blessings.
Beautiful response & a 2 word poem: burdened blessings 🙏🏼
Thanks. That turn of phrase has actually inspired me to compose something grounded by that phrase.
Good to hear—let me know if/when you post it 😀
I’ll do that.
I’ve posted “Burdened Blessings” https://steemit.com/poetry/@momzillanc/burdened-blessing
I would like to think this as a paradox, it is beutifully put
Hehe, whether guarded we just smile for the cameras, covering the million things we want not seen
I love your way with words. Your command of the language makes every thought you express beautiful.
Cheers <3
Thank you, for your close, encouraging reading. Your words remind me of a song I admire, by Morrissey, The Harsh Truth of the Camera Eye:
Again, much gratitude for your attention and support, @fego
_/|\_Hello @yahialababidi the photographs are time stopped. The reflection of a moment that helps memory to return to the past. Certainly the captured is no longer ours, belongs to time. We only have the rejoicing or the pain of a present attire.
I invite you to read my poem dedicated to the heroes mothers.
Yes, what is captured is no longer ours as we flow through the river of Time... Thank you, for stopping by 🙏🏼
Life and persons passes away but memories not . Memories always alive .
Yes, for better or for worse, they do... And, change shape, over time.
“The emotion that can break your heart is sometimes the very one that heals it" and nice poetry
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Which one is you??
In the Madonna t-shirt (with the attitude).
He he.. so awesome!!!! I found a picture of me in a frankie says relax tee shirt at 13. Clearly me or my parents had no idea what it meant. How embarrassing. I will never share that one!!!
My wife didn’t get it either (and was gob-smacked to find out). 🤣
I know I was horrified but also very amused! 😎😄😄😄🎁
I might find it just for you...!!