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What is Left

Steve Frank
Poets Unlimited
Published in
2 min readSep 6, 2019

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As I look at,
ㅤ as I search through,
What is left…
Through the accumulation
The remains
The detritus
The detritus of eighty-four years

I wonder…

What meaning?
What meaning is hidden here?
What will I find?
What will I encounter?
Who?
Who will I encounter?

Each box I open…
Each item I lift…
Yields a question.
The question of why.
Why this?
What was it to you?
What does it tell me about who?
About who you…

Were?

For even in your absence,
ㅤ you remain.
Even as you are missed,
ㅤ you are present.

Each book,
ㅤ filled with bookmarks.
Each random paper,
ㅤ covered in notes.
Each yields the question.
The same question.
Who were…

You

I knew you.
A bit.
I walked with you.
A bit.

Yet,
ㅤ you were more.
More than I knew.
More than I could know.

And now I wonder…
Who were you?
What did I not know about you?
What will I discover?
What new thing will I find that I will…

Miss?

What mysteries are hidden?
What histories will be explained?
What new questions will arise?
Will I finally remember,
ㅤ will I finally know,
Who you were?

I as sift through the random bits of life you left behind,
ㅤ I will find you.
I will find you in…

What is left

to my mother Phyllis: August 14, 1935 to August 30, 2019

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Steve Frank
Poets Unlimited

A programmer discovering himself in poetry…a lifetime preparing to write, now finally putting pen to paper. You’ll find me in my poetry.