Kronstadt, St Petersburg – 2013
(I)
the left ear of russia
the eye and brow towards the west
key that locks the gate
when you put on your white dress
only then can outsiders walk towards you
(II)
old brick and dry mortar
varicose veins of cracks in your concrete
ceilings caved under burden of ages
the plaster drip from your tired walls
children’s footsteps imprinted in your dusty streets
(III)
incense through the cathedral doors
seeps softly from the warmth within and
touches and reminded passers-by
that this scent is of ages past
its sweetness filled with faint distant voices
