私は蛾がろうそくの炎に惹かれるように彼女に惹かれました。炎はいつも手の届かないところに動いているので、私は決して炎に焼かれることができませんでした
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Frederick Douglass with his musician grandson Joseph Douglass, 1894
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Sung-Pil Chae (Korean, b. 1972) - History of the Blue I, oil on canvas, 116 x 89 cm (2020)
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Martin Luther King Jr. And Ralph Abernathy Riding On The First Desegregated Bus In Montgomery, Alabama In December 1956
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We watched them die slowly and incrementally with both sadness and joy.
They morph and then disappear before us into unrecognizable beings. We hope there's still a connection in them somewhere to a long lost past.
We seek it odd places, like that scar from a misadventure when they fell. It comforts us to see it now as it pained us then to guide them through the ordeal.
Yes.....
They die off into adults like pupa into butterflies and the children we once held and loved are lost to us.
There is still love usually. Different and distant.
Angst and joy, love and agony until they repeat the cycle and only dust of their elders remain does the epiphany come.
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