Very Well, I Will Be Forgotten
Very well, I will be forgotten, have already been by most.
Why, I'll probably forget myself as I've forgotten earlier selves, moments,
emotions.
And the words I write-and too quickly forget-will last perhaps a
generation
Before the clutter of books records papers will bury them out of sight.
For a time, some there are who will remember, even with feeling, well-
meaning. I will be briefly missed.
But, then, these others, dear people, in order to bear their present, will
move beyond me as I moved beyond so many, earlier,
With only an occasional glance at the complexity that was theirs.
How, now, shall I excuse them in advance, who struggle against chance
and time, parcels of joy and sorrow arrayed before them?
How shall I caress their innocence in my silence, my necessary silence,
fearful of startling them?
I pay my homage to past and future, to the dead, to the young, my own
memory a paltry offering, my few words, trinkets of my journey.
I am embarrassed to raise too many questions, to speak of love, to describe
the pleasure I have been given.
Perhaps it is proper to please briefly, to be savored now and for a time in
memory, then to fade softly leaving the future to find its place.
12/24/01, 6/15/02
Copyright 2002 by Maurice Leiter
Posted with permission.
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