The Photographer: Self Portrait
Between us, this box through which I look
At you and you cannot
See the sorrow I bring from years of capturing
Moments that never will come again.
When we die, I’ve been told, we really
Die twice: when we settle into breath’s absence
And when no one on this earth
Knows who we are in photos left behind.
Yet how can I stop myself? The glory of
This moment, your very soul in your eyes.
Eugene, Oregon, poet Ingrid Wendt is the author of five books of poems and co-editor of two anthologies. A musician by avocation, she was a visiting writer in public schools and universities throughout the US and abroad for 30 years. Recent poems appear in Poetry, American Poetry Review, Terrain, Calyx, About Place, and others. IngridWendt.com
