A Box Of Photographs** Poem by Neil Young

Sifting through these photographs,
Faint years fall into disarray.
Shuffling half-remembered faces,
Glued to half-forgotten places,
I learn too late; their many griefs,
Like water, find their levelled way
To me through silent cracks in Time.
Reconstituting feelings trapped
Within, they charm or curse; those whom
I look for, those I don't; each steeped
With irresolvable conclusion.
My simple task, one of collation
Reads like an epitaph to lives
Estranged, or spent.Now in these archives
I have found false starts, lost friends,
Ex-lovers, relatives deceased.
What I've begun, recalls their ends…
What have I carelessly released?