there is the hope-filled sun-bleached stone
bright as earth-bound star
blazing beneath heaven’s hot diamond
jewel in royal azure cloak of sky
envy of the crowding silent sentinels
with eaves safe shelter for birds
who weave a garment of song in thanks

surely this place is one of perfect joy

but the smell of death reeks from within
where unseen blackness like India ink
hides old limbs and lost lives
wet dank rot does inhabit the heart
what betrayal is this white-washed place
no welcoming house of endless joy
but a cold collection of moon-blanched bone