I walk on history,
On the souls and soles that trod before me,
On rivers of joy and misery,
Rain that flowed and mud that gathered,
Between these stones for centuries.
If I crouched down on one knee,
What stories could you tell me?
What blood has spilled and secrets killed,
Among these stones for centuries.
How many hooves, feet and wheels,
Of flesh or wood or leather or steel,
Carried by the time’s ideals,
Were forgotten within a century?
(Image taken in Dakar, Senegal)
(c) Finbar Piper 2017
