A Sunday Afternoon Poem

WE are the generation of witnesses. 
WE who have seen and felt so much. 
Not because of our age, 
but because of the age,
Because of the enormously swift 
compaction of time and space.

Because, of course, of the ever-grasping nature 
of the mind, our first tool. 
The mind before the stone implement, 
before the wheel.
The mind before the telephone, the TV, 
the computer. 
The mind before the bomb.

Everything goes in a flash in the atomic age, 
and we witnessing watch it flashing on the 
screens of our minds.

Our minds are time's eye.

Time passes, we witness time, time 
and again.

Our witness is time's life.

The chaos of past meeting future 
begets NOW, 
our mindful present.

Richard Skidmore is a writer of many things. 
He lives in Aquinnah.

About this column: This Sunday Afternoon Poem is provided by the Martha's Vineyard Poetry Society (MVPS). With almost 200 members, MVPS is the island's largest poetry society. MVPS is responsible for nominating and selecting our island's Martha's Vineyard Poet Laureate.