"One of my cities," I wrote,
as though after thirty-six years
some solid bond yet remained--
knowing full well only two years ago
I was recognized there by none.

And in the more than a century
perhaps a mere thousand of us
can claim such "bond"--
most passed on, a few hundred
perhaps holding somewhere
some memory.

"My city," still as it was in the
seventies, and for me so real
that scenes and scents and sounds
and countenances still hover,
so easily summoned.

"My city," where a warm heart
was received coldly by so many--
and yet unceasingly
the light held sway in spite
of northern mist and
wintry darkness.

"My city," for their souls
were composite of its soul
entrusted for those months
to my watch, to my keeping,
to my conviction.

"My city," and in an eternal sense,
I somehow do not doubt
that in its two thousand years
of darkness--His Light
really does make it mine.

03/10/2008

Author's Note: Ede-Wageningen, Amersfoort, Dordrecht, Groningen, Heerlen, and Almelo.

Posted on 03/11/2008
Copyright © 2024 Leonard M Hawkes