Imported Temple

Milling temple patrons
confessing your lives in the
ways unpracticed ways you walk.
Lining up to take your place
in the desecrated desert import.
Your children wiggle about
in this forbidden playground,
unaware that their hands
rest on ancient ground.

I am lying in wait.
Deaf ears hiding your echo.
Your lives are screaming to my eyes
and revealing the mundane essence
in classic photos taken,
then forgotten.