The Photographer

How interesting is the passage of time,
when in the hands of a
photographer.

When, in the Victorian days, you were hard-pressed
to stay in place, keep your face the same,
framed like statues
for the 20 minutes you waited for the image to take.

These days, a quick

click

is all it takes for the image to
stick.
To preserve a moment in time –
proof of a person,
proof of a life –
to be looked at by those down the line
who may wonder

why?
Why that person?
What was their story?

Maybe a baker, rising early
with dough to knead and ovens to light
or a postman, up before the end of the
night, delivering letters as the sun starts to rise.

Be you a refuse collector or chef,
a grave-digger, or something else instead:
you are worthy of a

snap

where the lens can capture the
truth of you

where the aperture can cast you
in a moment of light

where the shadows are not a place
to hide

and negatives are an invitation
to develop.

Our time may be a long exposure
or gone in a

flash

but thanks to the photographer

we can leave something that lasts.