Originally posted October 30, 2010
Some years ago I came across a cache of old photographs at my Grandpa’s house. My excitement soon turned to frustration when I found very few labeled.
Unknown faces with unknown names,
box full of forgotten,
children, women, and men.
Little boys in dapper suits, little girls in lovely bows,
and bride and groom gazing with sweet eyed innocence.
Memories forgotten, tucked away in a box.
Who will ever know these faces,
these ancestors, these friends.
Hidden within an old great-grandfather?
Is there an old one left to remember,
with eyes not covered in cataract,
whose memory has not yet failed?
Must they remain unknown faces with unknown names?
Moved from one house to another,
passed down the line to each generation,
with no one knowing.
Why did no one place your name there on the back?
Will my face and name be one day unknown?
Frantically the names are written on my box full of faces.
Heartache locked up in my soul,
refusing to be an unknown face with unknown name.
Those of you who come after me,
please remember me, my face, with my name.
Pass it along, cherished in love to each generation that comes,
I do not wish to be an unknown face with unknown name,
forgotten memory, tucked away in a box full of photographs.
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