In a hundred hours not once
did I feel unsafe, or unwelcome
familiar streets, even when
-even in, the moments I was lost.
Lost, but welcome.
Your lit up churches, foundations and towers
Highlighting what has been and what could be.
Your street sweepers come out while the band is still playing,
and in our listening to the heavens
we turn around to find
cleanliness in the
clean lines of your brickwork
the curved lines of your stonework
-you never quite understood the culture which birthed you.
In 6000 minutes
I indulged in,
every aspect of your kitchen
with eyes, and smiles, and a tummy that grumbled - I sampled,
And sampled also your
artwork, the museos
of a thousand years.
The museos of ayer,
Sometimes your sculptures
weren't yet standing,
But I recognized the shape
Of what's to come.
Your center boasts
a pledge to preserve
You for all humanity -but
in all the love you gave me
none came with a touch.
How can I help preserve you
if you won't share with me a partner?
Welcome, but lost.
