A year ago, I moved into the city – which prompted a deluge of writings on Baltimore. Here is one of them:

The Basilica
The fallen and felled
Rise up row upon row
The basilica stands tall and weeps

The savvy businessman
Between Charles and Light
Calmly tours the buildings and streets
Then home to his
Columbia, Towson, and White.
As into the city, the darkness will creep.

The Basilica stands
Way up on the hill
Lifting her skirts, exactly just so
Prominently hidden
She looks on as she weeps,
For her Constellation dying below.

The checkered blocks of rich and poor
Meld into rings and tears and plight
Somehow far away
The deciders and quakers
Close their ears, close their eyes
Tight. Tight. Tight.

And the Basilica turns
Quiet and still
No longer weeping
from her view on her hill.
– Oct 24, 2009