Looking Back – a poem

Looking Back

 

Perhaps in decades to come

You might come across an image of a man

Looking back at you from a familiar place.

You might notice his stance,

His dress and demeanour,

And ponder at the focus of his gaze.

You might wonder what he is looking at, seeing and thinking,

And wonder about his life and intent.

When you look at that frozen moment,

Forever captured in that instant,

It might stimulate your curiosity.

What was the story of that moment?

What was going through that mind?

Where was he going?

What life had he led?

What world had he moved in?

What was this moment all about?

Now when you return to that familiar place

There is an empty space where that man had once been.

Now there is a story

That will never be told.

 

Opher – 4.5.2019

 

 

I wrote this in response to a photograph of a canal. It was a photo taken a hundred years ago. A man was walking along the tow-path, is dark suit with a cap. Only a hundred years ago, but a million miles of change. The world he lived in was an alien planet.

He was looking at the camera. His eyes were thoughtful. It made me wonder.

I am familiar with that stretch of canal. It hasn’t changed much. But the world has changed around it.

I look at the place and can picture that man. It makes me wonder what world he inhabited, his thoughts, dreams and wishes, and how his life panned out. What was in his head when he looked up that day?

Will someone look back at an image of us in a hundred years’ time and wonder?

Looking Back – a poem

Looking Back

 

Perhaps in decades to come

You may look at an old photograph

Of a familiar scene from long ago

And see an image of a man

Staring back at you through time.

In that familiar place

He appears

Caught in the moment.

 

You might notice his stance,

His dress and demeanour

And wonder at his gaze.

What was he thinking?

It may make you wonder

About his life,

His intent and purpose.

 

When you look at that moment,

Forever captured in that instant,

Frozen for ever in time.

It might stimulate curiosity

As to the story behind that scene

In which that image was seized.

 

What thoughts were going through his mind?

Where was he going?

What life had he led?

What was this moment all about?

For than moment never existed on its own;

It was merely part of a continuum.

 

If you were to revisit that familiar place

There would be an empty space

Where that man once stood.

It is full of a story

That will never be told.

 

Opher 5.1.2018

 

 

This poem was stimulated by my photographer friend Richard Duffy-Howard. He was talking to me about photographs taken from long ago connected to his work on the river Humber. Using the wonders of the photo processor of Lightshop he has been able to isolate individuals from the old images. Those ghostly figures stare out from those photographs. Each of them have their reasons and stories. But we will never know more than we can glean from the evidence of what we can ascertain from the image. We can infer lots from the way they look and hold themselves. Part of their story can be guessed at – but only part.

It made me think that one day in the future somebody might be looking back at an image of me – a ghost from the past – and wondering.

We are all fated to be fleeting ghosts in a changing landscape.

It made me think of the Roy Harper song Hope. What strange ghosts, strange archaeology we become. We are so fleeting.