at Dzibilchaltún
edge of the jungle
away from the sun stricken
pilgrims with their warm water bottles
and selfie sticks and wide brimmed hats
a glimpse behind the scenes
rubble reclaimed, being returned
to restored ruins
Mayans rebuilding a temple
stone their ancestors lifted
towards the sun, one
by one, until everything aligned
I wanted to slip
beneath the caution tape
ask in their tongue
can I help?
but I don't know the words
and I don't know why
I want to join them
or why we allow
the caution tape
to stand like a wall
between knowing, understanding
allowing the rules
and the rulers
to restore ruins
with no caution
towards the cause
[April 23, 2023 -- 23rd poem for April. This one inspired by the Mayan ruins at Dzibilchaltún in the Yucatán, outside of Merida, MX]
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