Not Fade Away

Today, I was reading Brute Neighbors, an anthology of writing that addresses nature and its place/form in the city. In an essay by S. L. Wisenberg, there was a lovely series of sentences reading:

“We are all afraid of begin erased. Our names in water writ. Of the earth disappearing. We are small and the night looms.”

I copied those lines into my journal, and they stayed with me all day. So, here is a small offering for Poem-A-Day in November today.




We are all afraid of being erased. Our names in water writ.

************************************    S.L. Wisenberg

We wrote our names in sand, forming the lines

and curves with damp hands or sharp sticks,

next to the castles and silos built with

buckets, the moats we shoveled for

hours under the July sky. We knew

the water would come, even

cheered as it demolished

our labors, knowing, as

children do, that there

would be another.

That days were

infinite, our

names only

letters we






on a


of years.


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