Broken Shards of Pottery – Archeological Fantasies
Ancient shards of pottery
Abandoned or hidden in the shifting sands
By someone from somewhere
For some reason or another
Cultural markers shattered and scattered
And therein lies a theory or three
Or four, perhaps many more
A precipice of projections and possibilities
Archeological fantasies
Lost civilizations and golden cities
Deserted by everybody for some reason
Or forcefully taken by some other somebodies
Armies of forgotten nations invaded some place
In another time, another space
And yet no papyrus for recollection
Pottery shards perhaps the possible connections
Tribes of those consigned to oblivion
While their keepers of all things important
Had vessels of everything of their historical days
Resting safely in pots of clay
Else they’d have been lost to the refuse heap
Where heaping mounds of stacked up piles
Hold the secrets of ways and styles
Unlocking the secrets means turning the dials
Nothing worth anything
Until their second discovery
By those who see or believe
Locksmiths of antiquities
Questioning the why and what and how and whom
Carefully cleaned with a tiny broom
Lengths of string and perfect squares
Shards, adornments, and prehistoric wares
Markers of the past buried deep in the earth
Layered soils giving birth
Excavated in the strange cartography
Discovering historical geographies
What was lost now suddenly found
Extracted gently from the ground
A single hut becomes a town
Spreading out for miles around
The keys to doors long since closed
Most of it now decomposed
Archeologists working without vacation
For reclamation of a civilization
Hope is found objectively
Often sight is what we cannot see
Changing history is like a lottery
The ticket a mere broken shard of pottery
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Wouldn’t it be great, Ralph, to find out what some of those shards mean and find out about some daily lives of ancient times? There was a time when I wanted to be an archaeologist – wish I had followed through on that. Your poem is very interesting to me and brings to light so many mysteries. I love it! Nicely penned, dear poet.
I would have loved being and archaeologist, I too have such a fascination with ancient cultures, their beliefs and way of life. I had a friend who own several ancient pieces from an Egyptian tomb and holding them was trans-formative. One was a mummified hawk, its beak still in perfect condition. Loved this Ralph, so well penned and fascinating.