In the far away places of my memory
we saw misty mountains from the ridge.
The cathedral looms above the square
like Jesus on the Bridge.
Dark stone towers mark the crossing
as we work our way through the crowds.
The faceless vendors hype their wares
in the shadows of the clouds.
The homeless man kneels before me
outstretched arms extended wide.
With palms turned up in supplication
a sleeping dog by his side.
A few coins for absolution
and we hurry along our way,
to the next tour attraction
fighting back feelings of dismay.
All this splendor amidst the poor,
the palace shines upon the ridge.
As we look down upon the lost
like Jesus on the Bridge.