Kronstadt, St Petersburg – 2013


the left ear of russia

the eye and brow towards the west

key that locks the gate

when you put on your white dress

only then can outsiders walk towards you


old brick and dry mortar

varicose veins of cracks in your concrete

ceilings caved under burden of ages

the plaster drip from your tired walls

children’s footsteps imprinted in your dusty streets


incense through the cathedral doors

seeps softly from the warmth within and

touches and reminded passers-by

that this scent is of ages past

its sweetness filled with faint distant voices