Elder
wooden beams still
house
these rooms.
New
plaster
filling
space by
white
modern walls,
and
bright contemporary l.e.d.’s
- curios.
Ancestral
rock eyes push through ever-
multiplying
empty pallids of rooms.
‘We were here first,’ they whisper.
Newcomers
don’t listen.
They
take
over.
Strip the sacred archs and
irregular
curves drawn by original
peoples.
Drill in
cut
them back, space by
space.
Encroach with
strict,
sterile lines;
90° white corners.
No variation
Except.
Wires and electricity
that buzz and lights
disturbing the long-
forgotten sleep extinguishing
night from day. They change
the natural elements of old.
‘Erase recollection,’
they cry.
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