Who’ll promise to remember us?
An angel of change has brushed its wing
against the frail contours of our lives.
A lighter generation now takes off.
Open-ended travellers. Will they become
globe-trotters, strays and passers-by,
our turn a past they won’t recall
as their own? Already a future forebears
once imagined now long outdated.
O angel of history must we forget
those hard-earned vestiges in our clay,
sweat of heritage, arrears we owe?
The dues paid, the debt assumed,
our thread mark of owing between
those who were and those who follow.
Yes, to love the flow, to embrace
the shifting globe and yet the risk
of traces lost in giddiness of change.
In these fragmented times we wonder
will those who fit the prints we leave
remember feet that walked before them?