footprints on the sands of time

trampled time — history reduced
a basilica of broken basalt,
fractured marble memories
here I was — there I wasn’t
pixels pressed into a pause
a prayer cut from a pilgrimage
standing here — a refracted mirror
a shadow cast upon a castle wall
a din of littered dust mutes our steps
cheesy smiles — FOMO guiles
medieval walls, the minaret calls
a pirate ship, Murano glass
sidewalk shops — purchased relics
the hours glass pristine of fingerprints
pick a printed postcard, perfect
an empty moment — that never was.

∞

Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo #GloPoWriMo).

Today’s prompt: Day Seven: “Today, write a poem that argues against, or somehow questions, a proverb or saying. They say that “all cats are black at midnight,” but really? Surely some of them remain striped. And maybe there is an ill wind that blows some good. Perhaps that wind just has some mild dyspepsia. Whatever phrase you pick, I hope you have fun complicating its simplicity.”

My inspiration comes from a line in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem A Psalm of Life: “footprints on the sands of time” … which got me thinking about another saying about “leave only footprints, take only photos” and our modern tourism industry; nothing like the marks of great people who actually created the history we covet.