As
by Alexander L. Karan, annie, and skyler
Date: Sun, 19 Jul 1998 00:42:41 -0400

with gratitude to benson, teno, psyche and the spirit of scrytch.
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As the faces of tomb stones
are worn smoother --
more and more forgetful
of names and dates --
the living manage to keep at it
with increasing regularity;
habits accumulate
until moments of spontaneity
start to mirror one another;
patterns grow years deeper,
wrinkles in stories we live.

The larger meaning of small deeds,
like footsteps marked deep
in the marble doorways of ancient temples.
Acts of faith and outrage,
of whimsy and wisdom,
each a ritual magic of its own,
crewel work runes and figures
in the soft and aging velvet
of an elder visage.

Over years, wind and rain
Play on the stone, names and numbers
Cut into its skin, the pain of loss
Blurs and fades 'til even rubbings
Remember beloved father no more.
Time heals all wounds.

Under years, smiles and frowns
Work on the face, lips and eyelids
Stretch at its bedrock, smooth youth
Ruts and grooves 'til every pore
Evokes a tapestry of remembrance.
Wrinkles harvest all times.