Walk Ways Poem by William Coyne

I have walked over these roads;
I have thought of them living.
Ezra Pound - PROVINCIA DESERTA

You cannot but feel the ancient steps
of travelers past who trod and wept
the trails we walk these brighter days,
though time has worn blood stains away.

The air they breathed blown oblivious,
by so many empty winds of so many of us,
and scavenged too, their tears and groans,
now stored securely under thrones.

Doomed to repeat what we forget,
the powers that be ensure that, and yet
a small troubling seed roots our head
and blossoms memories of cherished dead.