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the Shape of a Child

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I saw the shape of a child, standing in a photograph.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The memory stirs at something inside

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I raised the shape of a child
Fed, taught, clothed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A placeholder in this space.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The shape stained photographs
Where a little girl should be

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We didn’t know because we couldn’t see her

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For three years we created memories
we now aren’t sure are true.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One day she found herself
She led us to understand

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gradually this shape became a child
And a sweet girl appeared in my photographs

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Without realizing, I let go of the shape

While knowing she was always there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She became who she always was
exactly what we needed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The same compelling mind, same skin
The honesty fills a void

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Where a daughter raised a mother
And my photographs held truth again.

girl on rope swing