Ebb

 

 

Ebb

 

The flagstones remember

the footsteps of a proud people

who walked their path

before the wind formed dunes of urban rubbish

in the doorways of derelict shops,

livelihoods once,

whose signs have lost their meaning.

 

The city’s ancient core is a counterfeit fortress,

surrounded by a moat of tireless traffic, and

hedged by watchtower tenements.

At its heart, the church is secure,

by virtue of a locked door.

The sunbursts of its ceiling bosses

shine on empty pews,

a hallowed but hollowed Temple of Athena,

whose fabric is a cenotaph to forgotten gods.

In its graveyard, promise lies buried.

John Walter Taylor

© All rights reserved

revised 11 August 2024