Forgotten
May death not find you
among the forgotten.
The floors you scrubbed,
the laundry washed.
Depression-time men
passed by for work.
You are older now
and frail among
those lined up
in wheelchairs
for the dose
to keep them
docile.
Dig out
the potato root
formed in that
famished land.
May death not find you
among the forgotten.
Poem by Tom Simard
Sketches by John Spiers
For this poem, I chose three sketches: an ironing board (toil supporting a family), a bowl of potatoes and cut work napkins (nourishment for body and spirit), and a cleaned plate (generosity towards the needy). The drawings as a series diminish in value contrast, depth, and details, like fading memories.
To read more of Tom’s creative work, please visit Tom’s WordPress blog.