Poem: Multiperspectivity

Tiny faces peek out from the ledge

of stone walls dusty from disuse,

empty doorways and metal edges

over places where windows used

to fit. Once we belonged here, but

we lost the pages; still a plaque grows

cold against spring’s gasp, shrouded taut

amongst the weeds, until the winds blow

limbs apart, reveal lost names and story

and we close our eyes, walk into history.