, , , , , , , , , ,

Heaven-kissed streets sloping
around the face of the mountain
on which the city was carved
in a ritual dance between
mother nature and
restless humanity

natives indistinguishable
from pilgrims, we walk
in casual adoration
brushing past warm strangers
in the fog,
each of us towing
a caravan of voices
of strawberry summers
and a long-ago resurrection
from when tectonics
and fault lines moved
and left the last generation
for dead, the scenes
on our minds following
our footsteps on the sidewalk
where once, a man
with silent thunder in his blood
hid dragons and cathedrals
within the tile mosaic
for children to find
and hone their capacity
for visions before
the government tore it down
like dirty propaganda

a road that meant
so many different things,
remembered and returned to
in many different ways:
prayer rooms and funeral pyres
and birthplaces of dreamers,
so many times reinvented,
pulsing in evolution
ephemeral and immortal
under my feet
a decade’s worth of memories
in every step,
a hundred miles of pavement
per second,
like I’m racing through time
in pursuit of something
silent but alive
under layers of change
inside myself

“Session Road”
by photographer Enchie Cruz


You might also like: