The Year Moves to Its Close

Tatiana Iliina

Tatiana Iliina

The year moves to its close
   Not the raging river it was
      under January’s bright sun
   but a slowly retreating glacier
      exposing bones in soft silt

What is time but a measure
   of the movement of our lives
      Once from infancy to maturity
   but now from maturity to senility
      A mannequin slowly disrobed

We have remembered the dates
   but forgotten how the stories go
      or even who the characters were
   riding so high on the crests of waves
      that carried us across the land

We have clung to the trophies
   but cannot remember the battles
      or the bodies of all those fallen
   where we were greeted with cheers
      before moving on to new wars

Little do we know our history
   does not lie lost in a time gone by
      We have never really moved that far
   our bones rest restlessly just below
      the creeping glacier revealing all

“If history were taught in the form of stories,
it would never be forgotten.” ~ Rudyard Kipling


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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2 Responses to The Year Moves to Its Close

  1. wonderful piece – from one naked mannequin to another


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