seven

do not speak to us
of history
in this place

do not speak to us
at all.

seven
pilgrimages
in seven years

& already i wonder
if this journey is my journey
at all.

***

the city walls
pulse with a language
understood only

by those
who have just been born
& those about to die.

the city gate opens,

i close my hand
over my mouth

one last time.

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