IN THE ARCHIVES: WILLS & LETTERS

We imagine ourselves gods when we read what the dead wrote,

but we are powerless. The letter betrays more than the soul

and the dead do not need to feel ashamed of their failings.

They admit their infidelity without remorse. But we stay

mum and our deeds have been irrevocable.

We recognise the outstretched hand that was rejected.

The imploring look that left us indifferent. We pore

over photocopies of wills and hear the rustling

of money. We think, oh, how small-minded we have

been. From diaries we learn how easily promises

are broken; often despite ourselves. For each time

we thought to have our destiny in our hands, chance

has taken it over from us. Time has been stronger

than the will. In so many memoirs we recognise

trust precisely before the false move. The over-confident

decision that we will always regret. And yet, nothing

is for nothing. When we read what the dead wrote,

we recognise ourselves. All life long we have been blind.

johnirons