A poem by Christchurch scholar Paul Millar.
Thx for the memories
for the people of the Avon Loop
At first we didn’t see we were sinking,
or that over our heads ice was hardening.
How could so many be all, and all end?
By the time someone noticed, we were
on the far side of the pane separating
the dream from the drowning time.
Below the floe our unlived futures
still live untaken. Our frozen assets,
hopes of reprieve, past expectations,
are flickering patches on a silent film,
confined to a vault, on the shelf
of an archive slated for destruction.
Author’s Note: This poem was written in response to the collaborative Place in Time project, Thx for the Memories, which can be viewed at Place In Time: The Christchurch Documentary Project.
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