Classic Poem

Some things might best survive by being lost
or stolen, hidden, sunk beneath the waves —
for years preserved, tucked deep inside a chest,

perhaps. Our art sometimes escaped the past
by being shipwrecked early — to one day
be found, having survived for being lost.

Karyatides — stone women used as posts —
for years held up Acropolis like slaves.
The stolen one preserved — her face and chest's

carvings still clear. Her sisters' features almost
disappeared, worn away by industrial rain.
Minoan island city-states survived, though lost,

covered by ash which turned the towns to ghosts,
but left each house intact — forgotten ways
for years preserved inside the Earth's deep chest.

Years later by that sea, a child will cast
and sink her dreams like stones — she's told they weigh
too much to keep. Will they survive those lost
long years, preserved, tucked deep inside her chest?