by R. M. Engelhardt

Photo by Martin Cathrae via Flickr. Creative Commons: Some rights reserved.

If there’s an archaeology of the book, then the beginnings are deep under the surface, 
under the soil. 

~ J.M. Cortez

Every moment cannot be the poem
No matter what the poets say
Just like the idea of black & white
Everything is gray
We are cities of words we are
Oceans made of language & voices
We are merely the beginning
But always the end
We are the stories told & handed
Down from one generation
To the next
The bones of our own existence
The chance to start again
Without any heroes or myths
But with beauty, love, grace
And compassion
A story worthy
Of being
Alive

R.M. Engelhardt is a veteran poet & writer whose work over the years has appeared in many journals & magazines such as Dry Land Lit, Rusty…