Memoria

By A.J.R. Mennon

Wide-eyed, the whole world stares ahead

while I look behind.

The whole world on tip-toe, runs too far ahead

while I plant my feet, to see through the design.

The whole world endlessly enamored with

the screens and masks sold to them,

While I pore through images, pages long-gone

in my own inwardly secluded realm,

Watching the whole world trapped within

plastic bottles of echoing broadcasts,

While I sip and stroll in a hidden winery

of poems, of stories, long past.

The whole world willingly seduced 

by the silken blindfolds of modernity—

at the expense of an expectant posterity—

while I cling fast as I can to the few 

of the ever-rising pillars from antiquity.

The whole world squinting, stares on ahead,

while I, in for clarity, look behind.

By A.J.R. Mennon