Paris I’ve never visited
only the uncanny wind
whispered how a city
was embattled with ashes
coming out of a theatre.
Where music thundered
to heart beats
where men sieged a house
set it on fire
immolated a lost civilization, and meanings
of life, beauty, love were
left smouldering, in ashes
of ruin. Where politics did not comprehend love and
boisterous laughter, celebrating living.
Only I know the truth
that a Paris which I’ve
not visited, never will
will remain firm in the
iron soul of my body
wringing desperate hands,
feet, as a weeping
manifestation of a world
surrendering to phantoms.