This city is becoming more of a faded death stirring memory I am between cemeteries Mother’s up a hill on the south side and Father’s on an trifling eastern peak. I revere this city with its rich history and tumultuous existence, something we both share, but I am not at home here nor am I at peace. Walking down these broken streets I feel bleak and disconnected. Blocks from Father’s house sorrows whip up my pace and distance bandages my wounds. I am a foreigner in my own country something less than a tourist lagging on the burden of an over scuffled past.