The fallen.
The forgotten.
As their memories recede,
Out of sight,
What painful truth do they find?
The fallen fall away far from our minds.
Epic loves,
Tragic tales,
Lifetimes filled with desire. . .
Gone. Forgotten.
Battles fought.
Wars survived.
Deadly diseases beat.
Not just accomplishments.
No understanding.
All taken away.
Like leaves victim to a cold autumn breeze,
Recognition diminishes.
Acceptance the bitter smell of cleaning fluids.
Hopelessness.
Knowing the soul sits trapped and suffering.
Fear.
Is this our future mirrored by this wretched curse?
Regret.
Words should have been written memorializing what’s been forgotten.
Before the words fell through time.
As they forget the memories of their lives.
Out of sight, their suffering hidden from the mind.
No good bye.
Trapped inside.
No cure in hand.
Only freedom found when the glass is empty of sand.
© 2012 Elizabeth Rockhill
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