Still, even now

their voices carry forward

they rise with the heat

a flame of hope that burns

in the end of every year

These penitents and pilgrims gather

in annual purgatories circled

in calendars on their walls

The very last week of a decade

when these flames burn brightest

and your noisy exit echoes

on through ages long

With black and white stills

that you still recall in color

The place, the date, the time

Still belonging to a now

that most have never known

Now holding vigil

for fellow travelers astray