Alcatraz

I was there once—
intense views,
spirits rising and falling,
all of us entrapped
on this piece of land.

I heard the seagulls
and the silent whispers
lifting with the sunrise—
people, dust, memories.

Cold weather, cold hearts,
remnants of man’s resentment.
Nature goes on living;
this is no reservation.

Guilt, conscience, prayers,
tears, the 1960s, modernity—
love, maybe hate.
Are you ever worried
about the past?

I see ferries and flowers now…