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tracks clatter to the distance.
twin strips of gleaming metal,
welded with rivets, sweat, grease.
gleaming tracks,
wiped clean.
free
of flesh shards, blood,
detritus, grime.
hammered strips of gleaming metal
meet someplace
where flowers
in memory
blood-red hibiscus, lilywhite
steal jealous color
from a widow’s ripped life.

see?
past the cobwebs and the grime.
just as luminous

Just this incredible sense of peace, and space.

Something about the play of sunlight on worn stone draws me back.
Something that I sort of know, but not quite.

Of tendrils carved in stone, a faint memory .
Even today the wind sighs over Bukhara.