They walk inside our footsteps,
nameless often
to the watching world at least.
Some days, we may forget,
as cold fingers
of time clutch our memory
or when laughter captures us
unawares, shocked
into pained oblivion.
Briefly they showed their faces
at a distance
or through gaps in wakeful nights
until, lacking the drama
of rattling chains,
they fade under life's spotlight.
But still we walk in their shape
and know ourselves
from the footpaths they have trod.
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