Shrine Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Shrine
Shrine
That in the wall
Of an old street
In the old city hangs
Where grime and
Dust
Crept in centuries
Shrine
Last night I passed
I heard words
Speech
And in my language
I recognized:
To me directed
Were those words?
I asked the Shrine
But no reply.
No sound.
Only the grit blasting
Distant sound
Over the waters
Up Nix Mangiari steps.
Monday, June 22, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: ancient
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5/21/2024 4:25:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
