Dear Kevin,

Thank you for your writing and photographs. The two
cut to what is important to remember. Human lives. I wrote this some years ago. It helps me when I find myself (often) in far away, alone places. Maybe it will put a smile on your face too.

Amara

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Golden Threads

When I am stripped to my essence,
sublimely precious
is the small, the shadow, the trace.

Childrens' questions heard in passing through a door.
A muddy footprint planted on a hallway floor.

Whiffs of garlic through an open pane.
A missing cosine angle, searched for in vain.

A cuckoo from a clock heard while in bed.
Olive oil dripping from a piece of fresh bread.

A misdirected email from a woman in pain.
A dog's sorrowful eyes seen through the rain.

The hands in a photograph of a long lost world.
Reading glasses on a table with one stem uncurled.

Elements weaving through the fabric of my life,
these are the golden threads,
which become the cloak, which I wear
to keep me warm.

Amara Lynn Graps
4 March 2001
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