We have been seeking
among brief histories,
lifetimes carefully mummified
in forgotten news;
memories imprisoned in
the gravity of time
stuck in an instant,
helpless yet beautiful.

Seeking
for moments of
tenderness
so near to pain;
the longing for closeness
we might never
have known;
and for the wisdom
to step on solid
beams.

So much is imprisoned
in the unwanted past
hiding away from the light
like the Franks
living in heady hope;
optimism burning
quiet and bright.

From the tiny window
whitened fingers
of Winter trees reach out
seemingly pointing
East.

.