pilgrimage

we trek this earth
shedding
nothing but the fragments
of our minds,
our hearts,
our youth
on alters constructed
of everything we have lost.

we deem these in memorials,
a conglomerate of symbols
stacked in bricks
on locations
painted
with the patterns
of our blood.

this is never silent,

it's only the noises
we create
when we backtrack
the footprints we have made.