We make time across the Strait
The ferry carries me
From all that I’ve known
To I know not where
Yet
But that matters not
The where is not there
I’ve left there behind
Moved on
Forward?
Who knows
Not I
Just an hour gone
And I miss parts of it
Already
Like a child’s stuffed toy
Or her comfort blanket
The woman no longer needs
Nostalgia alone soothes adult vulnerability
A bit
I hope I’ve left
All such things
To the past
They have earned
Like tears
That have fallen
Already forgotten
But for the trails
Dried on my cheek
I wipe them away
Horseshoe Bay to Nanaimo Ferry
Strait of Georgia
British Columbia, Canada
It’s really quite fabulous how much information current digital cameras store in their files. The shadows may seem entirely black, and the highlights completely washed out, when you open a file for editing. But there’s detail there, waiting to be found. You just have to learn how to reveal it.
There’s a metaphor there.
Words came not long after I started editing, in pretty much just the order you see here. Not much editing for them, though the last line would come only after I’d written this. (There’s often a turnaround, if I’m patient enough to wait for its arrival.)
Now I have to go back and finish the photograph. I’m sure there’s more to reveal there.