And did those feet in ancient time walk here?
Of course not! But I wonder if he came
What would he think about his legacy
Entrusted to the care of those he called?
Would it be recognisable to him
Whose name it bore? I hope so but I fear
That it might leave him flummoxed as to how
It came from what it was to what is now
But this should come as no surprise, as he
Has always lived outside, skirting around
The edge, living with those we overlook
Whilst we who he invited to come in
Our natural tendency is closing doors
To make ourselves feel safe and in contrast
Alas, to what we were before we met
And so, forgive us Father and moving
From Blake’s Jerusalem to Italy
Switching between establishment and heist
We pray, come blow those bloody doors away!

A counterpoint to Poem 79…

(28.01.22)

© Ben Quant 2022