Our Lady On a Bed of Flames — a poem

en.parisinfo.com

Paris has irrevocably changed;
it’s very clear.
With their heart broken,
a hole scorched in its center.
Stone edifices will tumble,
in time they will crumble —
but wasn’t this more than clay?
Lives were changed,
were taken,
were damaged,
were transformed…

No one leaves
Paris — Paris that weeps
now — no one leaves
Paris without an impression
of the lady.

6 thoughts on “Our Lady On a Bed of Flames — a poem

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