Two years, ten years and passengers ask the conductor:
What place is this?
Where are we now?

I am the grass.
Let me work.

Carl Sandburg. Grass

---

Greetings, dear Steemians.
I was recently commenting to @raj808, who was in turn commenting on a post by @jayna with a poem about the Nazy holocaust, and these lines from Sandburg's poem came to my mind. As I walked the streets of Cumaná with those lines in mind, I started to take pictures of some places that seem to capture that state of loss/abandonment.

_{There is beauty in disaster, though. The Manzanares River still impacts with its soft reflective embrace.}

Divine Intervention

They lost their fancy carriages

and got closer to the lower beasts.

Then, they surrendered their streets

and sidewalks
all together.
Their inferior bodies could not carry
their aimless wanderings.

Then, they forsook their dwellings,

unable to maintain their predatory usurpations.

Even the river waived its bed.

---

I am only claiming what's righfuly mine.

I'll make sure their babbling towers remain unfinished.

I'll make sure my offsprings won't know

they once ruled upon us.

I'll make sure no trace of

their insulting boots is left.

Let me work

I am the vine.

All images are from personal files. Taken in Cumaná, State of Sucre, Venezuela, on November 2018. Re-sized at imgur.com

Thanks for your reading. Your comments are valuable to me.