Corner of a Room

Captured on the film of memory

a corner of a room.

Time-bleached photographs

are ranged askew

against a wall

of ghostly patterned stripes.

Shadows from the past

stare out,

pensive self-conscious unawares.

A print of a saint,

hands clasped in submission

hoping for an answer to his prayers,

holds the place of honor.

The small corner table is

barely large enough

for the statue of the swaying Madonna,

the fissure still visible

where it fell and broke

when the little wide-eyed boy

tired of waiting

had thrown a ball.

A branch of last year’s olive

for the Blessing of the Palms,

companion to

a Shalom candelabra,

and a collection of old keys

for  forgotten locks.

The armchair

still remembers

the man who sat there

many an evening,

his soul already

keeping company

with those he would soon

join.