Defloresco

How can we not leave traces of ourselves, Clues to who we are in all we do?

The DNA of our intentions glows

Brightly around us. It imprints through.

Like snails, we leave filmy trails everywhere

We've ever been. Ghostly fingerprints,

Wraiths of meaning betray our progress. So

I’m ambushed by sadness. A tear glints

Silently down my face as I delete.

In this spreadsheet, that folder, this file

Lives my spirit, my memories, bereavement

And joy, my heart given to work while

My life went on elsewhere. Each letter,

Each keystroke, each line deliberately,

Carefully in its place; a job well done. Woven through is a soul trace of me.

Ó Teresa Durran 180928