like a child overwhelmed
by the incense
flowers and devotion
emotion, wondering about
touching feeling
the marble’s cold gravity
the slabs of flowers
old tattered
new fresh, but dead anyway
narrow paths to negotiate
and understand

barely under stood
bare under ground
bare souls torn apart
love tears
per se and from each other
to a person is
to a place
must not let the reel run out
must not let the celluloid fade
must not let it fa
must not le
must no
a sentimental Polish romance film in a minor key

At 12, I walk
elsewhere now
—ggage in tow
a faint trailing accent
invisible minority
heavy guilt of disconnectedness
something dear now far

I fear I no longer comprise
a part
of the homogenous
40+ million
98% Catholic
99% Polish
a tourist brochure

like a child left to discover
the beauty of non-attachment
her heart never able
to reassemble
to recapture the moment
to attach self to past

citizen of all nations
member of none