I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

13 April 2010

Machu Picchu

I watch the city of stone spread out again
across the peak of the mountain,
under the high shield of the other mountain
the dark one, younger and taller: my love.

I am sitting above the ruins, on the terraced hill.
We have walked through a place of fire.
Only last month this green hill burned,
and we can still see traces. And the sun
today has been fiery too; many tourist faces
have turned pink already. But I am at peace here.

There is a small hut close by. A decade later
my friend Helen will go and sit in its emptiness
and look out over the same view. She will adopt it
emotionally as ‘Helen’s house’. I in my time
do not enter the hut that will be her house,
but I like both its isolation and its implied shelter.

I almost dance down the steep rocks, fear of height
switched miraculously off, to wander through
solid buildings roofless to the sky. I hardly believe
I am here, touching. The altar to the sun is roped off.
No sacrifices today; the site is under repair. But we observe
the bowls and trenches that must have been for blood.

On a grassy space by a huge rock, under a frail tree,
we rest and contemplate. Later in meditation
I shall descend through hidden tunnels
over and over again, to meet my kin.

April PAD Challenge 12
Prompt: A city.

Also submitted 10 Dec. 2011 to Poets United's Thursday Think Tank #77 — The City

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