Passport, October 1993

Your tiny baby is removed from your arms

As you place your feet on the marks,

And the photographer tells you

To lift up your head, look forward, and smile.

There is no need to worry

And yet the camera makes you feel dirty.

Somehow you know it will capture you

And seal your fate in mine.

30 years later I am staring at your picture,

Reading your face like scripture,

Wondering if you remember me

Or the phantom in your eyes.

It is me, looking back at you,

I am the photographer and we are two

Intertwined souls in back of each other

Debating your God’s benevolence.