First published in The Quiet Letter, July 2018

“Mankind’s lessons are written in the ruins of his civilization.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

Days rolled into nights
and seasons turned into years
Air turned heavy with
memories from
the yesteryear
And the warm breeze
doesn’t soothe me
the ground
has been cracked
sullen for years,
it is not forgiving anymore
put blisters in my sole
and cracks
hard to bear
The big old giant
tall in the courtyard
has shamelessly witnessed the
with  its weak branches and
flailing stems
falling apart
That dark wretched well
hollowed and empty as
the widow’s eyes
and too dried up
to comfort any more souls
of the passerby
Those broken picket fences
once valiantly
marked the boundaries
has fallen from its grace
has lost their identity
Those aged doors
like my shattered
my name
on its cracked plate
This old town
rolling around in the dust
has lost its identity,
those broken souls
sleeping around me
are buried within
the folds of time.
Photo by Eduard Militaru on Unsplash

38 thoughts on “Ruins

  1. This reminds me of a song written by a friend of mine. In it he discusses how nothing remains in time’s wake. The chorus goes like this: “The fisherman knows that life doesn’t come easy/ what he builds with his hands, must come tumbling down/ but then how could life, be any other way…” Your poem is a reminder that time has a way of taking care of everything.


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