Walking through the Irish Hunger Memorial,

Up the sculpted ramps,

To look out over the composed ruins

Built to resemble those dirt-floored stone cottages

That my blood might remember

And the wild grasses sway gently in the breeze

Until I reach the top and look out over the grass and stone-

Turning away from the Hudson River,

I look up to from the roofless hovels

Up to the blue glass of the condos

Up at the Goldman Saks offices

Up to the impossible heights of power and wealth

And wonder if anyone is looking down,

If they can even see down to this place,

If it looks like anything at all

From such heights