There are things known
and things unknown
and in between are the doors.
—Jim Morrison
The man beneath the black umbrella,
with his back to the high stone wall,
haunts my daily wandering.
I see him on the wide Paris boulevard
at the entrance to Père Lachaise,
wordless as the pages of his book.
His frayed cup is empty of coins,
while visitors leave relics
on the graves of the famous and forgotten.
I feel his presence in a forsaken chapel.
Stone altar. Faded bible. Cracked windows.
Shards of stained glass litter the floor.
He follows me in the rain
like a whispered anthem,
inchoate as an angel’s wings.
Photo Courtesy: Atharva Tulsi, Unsplash
Sharon Daly
Judge's Comments:
“Pere Lachaise” places third for its focused rendering of a mysterious solitary figure panhandling by the entrance to a graveyard. The poem's portrayal of the struggles of the living and the memorials of the dead, set against the backdrop of tourists with money for handouts, creates a curious contrast of human values.
Poet’s Statement:
The man in this poem connects me with the mysterious unknown.
What is his story? Does silence speak? What do graves communicate
to the living? In what ways do we act like tourists as we go
about our daily lives? What do we notice? What do we pass
by? Is there beauty in broken remains?
Existing in the spaces between the known and unknown
is the human condition. What doors do we pass through
to help our unknowing?