The idea. the hope is that you can imagine what was,
Pompei before Vesuvious. Before fire and brimstone
covered the sparking city in white ash.
left lovers and strangers as statues for the gawkers,
left columns broken, little left standing, just enough
it seems, that a man with a good history book
and imagination can picture what was.
You are not that man. Your own life
has been left in ruins enough to know
what matters is what is left, not what was,
and even if it is diminished,
it is still beautiful.
About this poem
A poem about Pompei. About aging. About surviving trauma. Poetry is never about one thing.
The photograph was taken in Pompei.
Beautiful, beautiful, we thank you! – Ellyn in Baton Rouge
You are such an encourager. Be well.
You also! God Bless
Roman ruins always stirred my imagination. What an empire it was. Was being the operative word.
All empires fall. They lose their soul. Happens to individuals too.