Child, do you have a name?
I had thought that you would take mine,
but I do not find my face in thine;
I find a child unfamiliar and distant.
Calling you ‘I’ feels like a mistake,
an error that I have forced myself to make.
You bear not my name but we share the same face.
If we are the same then child, I think ‘we’ are dead.
You feel long-lost and maybe too much has been said.
You are the only character of a time now far gone,
an elusive figure who might not have existed all along.
No-one knew you were gone.
So to the child in the photo, please may I ask you:
Is it better this way?
If I beg of thee, I beg of me;
an answer someday.
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