when you could go back there, and just breathe-
standing stock-still for a moment to observe
in your bare feet
no beautiful ruins,
but the marbles, all complete
against an azure sky unclouded.
and no need, like the philosophers,
(when no winds stirred)
to question, wonder why
at all the Music still unheard
and reason it out unto infinity.
there, in the lemon groves
I would wander,
by the rose mottled Aegean;
no need to thrash it out with Socrates,
whatever I believed;
whatever didn't even cross my mind.
and still to no altar inclined,
I would bend and kneel in the fresh grasses
dotted with wildflowers I never knew
in ancient Greece.
and to God, as yet, unrecognized-
in unrequited Peace.
mary angela douglas 20 april 2016