| Walking through the streets of Sarajevo during my annual summer trip, My heart beats to the rhythm of my footsteps. A lingering past… Everywhere I turn, I hear sounds of happiness That I juxtapose in my head To the soundtrack one would have heard During the war, a mere fifteen years ago. These people and their innocence; Their ability to forgive and forget, To start fresh. As I pass the fountain, I question the reasoning behind history. Why so much turmoil In the “heart shaped land?” For the events in this country's history are far from what one would imagine Occurring in someplace using that as its tourism slogan. The deceptive hills hugging the city Can quickly turn from protection to suffocation. They have eyes, you know, And have witnessed all that has happened. At the museum I see complex Roman mosaics, Discovered at a site only a short tram ride away. In the center of the city, The pedestrian streets are lined with Ottoman bazaars And mosques,
With their minarets standing tall, elegantly overlooking their surroundings. A bit further down the main road, Pastel hued buildings, remnants of Austria-Hungary, encompass the bustle of city life. At the center of all this, The grand National Library, Now no more than a charred building. Its façade blends in with those of the other bullet-pierced buildings surrounding it In a once Olympic City. The turning over of this land From hand to hand Did not transition so smoothly. Cultural syncretism, which we study so vividly in history, Has new meaning for me. It could not have occurred without Conflict and disagreement. After all, beauty has a price to pay. A day spent in Sarajevo Leaves me wondering Why? | 
