POETRY
Ephemeral yet Eternal
Andrea, I know you cannot read this,
that to communicate with the dead—even to try—
is forbidden, so I write this as a way
of collecting my thoughts of you whom I know of,
you whom I do not know, much as our father did
soon after you died. I was one year then, you but a day,
a blue-toned baby of malformed heart.
Your hair was auburn like mine. I know because Dad
aimed his camera into a tiny casket, long since turned
to carbon along with your remains. They did not make them
as durable back then. He questioned himself
(would it be ghoulish?) then committed your form to film,
your soul to God. He wanted to remember your face.
Years later, he was glad to have done it though
he seldom viewed his work. To the letter he wrote
and the photographs he made, I add these verses.
While comparing our portraits, I formed an opinion.
Your infant features resembled mine, which is to say
you would have resembled our mother in time.
In my adolescence, I told her of friends
who were better at talking to girls. “They have sisters,”
she said, and I thought of you whom I know of,
you whom I do not know. When I was old enough
to understand, I learned of your existence,
ephemeral yet eternal, without seeing you.
I am much older now, near seventy. We will meet
beyond carbon when time no longer matters. As if
there is no persistence beyond suffering, there are those
who doubt God’s eternal existence, those who hate Him,
but our parents never indulged in such recriminations.
I suppose it is more mature to refrain
from holding Him hostage to ephemeral happiness.
Robert L. Jones III holds a doctorate in molecular biology and is Professor Emeritus of Biology at Cottey College in southwestern Missouri. His work has appeared in Sci Phi Journal, Star*Line, The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, and previously in Heart of Flesh.
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