Grave Diggers of the Abandoned

 

Photography by Rosalind Solomon

One woman’s trash is another’s bounty.

The ekphrastic images hold the soul, fingerprint,

story of letting go of what held a soul to memories.

Eyes of ink envision silent screams framed

in art, broken cups, and the cigarette-stained ghosts

smothering the once bright light of new joy.

Voices of rooms walk along fingertips that clutch

the bones of life hollowed into unwanted artifacts.

There are a thousand imaginations pulsing in a hand’s grip,

yet truth is a phantom chased, repurposed into a lie

if necessary to find a new home for orphaned belongings. 

In the valley of smog-stained windows loss 

is as perpetual as the sound of traffic, neon stars,

and sirens smothering the sparrow song of daylight.

Grave diggers of the abandoned still possess a bit

of rose tint in their eyes and see beauty, rebirth, 

purpose in the mausoleums of gritty sidewalk debris. 

©Susie Clevenger 2022

The Sunday Muse #232