Searching

Where are you —
anonymous brother, nameless sister,
seated next to me in a white car at night
long ago, saying little?

Where are you — my parents, my grandparents;
every single one unknown to everyone
except themselves, keeping their secrets
tight in oft-repaired pockets or worn purses?

I know nothing of them, really;
nothing of them except their names.
My family passed from here long before me.
My family passed like a movie I remember

only in passing. The houses we lived in
are as gone as they are. I have imperfect memory
of them — brother, sister, mother, father.
So I shoulder their burdens for them and go

into dawn light, into dark glow of moonlight;
startled in the rippling glow of a TV screen
in mid-afternoon, when something tells me
it’s time to go find them. But where are they?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T