poem

 

Witnesses (Remembering) – Randy Sabatelli

We meet at irregular intervals;
a birth, a death, a graduation.
Memory is not static. It’s in flux,
mutating through time and always
accumulation.. there’s a give, just
the way the cliffs above the Pacific
Coast Highway, shed themselves,
across decades. We are left, with
too few artifacts; proof is elusive.
Sea breezes embrace the seductive
stars, while the Santa Anas open old
wounds, blow salt though the dusk,
like stray bullets. But our lives are
not fictions,- we meet, and remember;
we bear witness for one another. This is
our function, and our highest purpose.

 

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