Thursday, 6 October 2011

Harry, Time Traveller (Zion Poem)

They move through his memory like
record keepers. He the guardian of ancient
texts, a librarian of lost histories, blinking
out of existence. He takes with him
apocrypha in language that won't
translate, knowledge he knows can't
be passed on as easily as breath.
Alexandria. Censored. Dead Sea Scrolls. His
is an archive under siege, blitzed
by the tirade of age, not decimated
but eroded slowly, brick by elegiac
brick, by an unwillingness of
community to retain, remember,
regress. Regret creeps in, oily,
between syllables, and as he speaks
the time-traveller journeys back.

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