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In paradisum--Ostia Antica

by Laurie Duncan

Wild grasses fill the shops and homes,
abandoned in a fruitless peace.
In the market leaves only whisper now,
breezes bring salt memories of the beach.
Soft marble carved and carried once
with intent and sweat and art
lies unknown in senseless pieces
like a tree with thunder-crashed bark.
Flowers and moss claim the bloodied altars;
filthy cobble, smoothed by some thousand feet,
shines in rain and silent sun, where
a white old dog now owns the street.
A garden overgrown with mint, the window
where once two witnessed sacred sights,
I sat at his feet in thorny flowering herbs
and dreamt in old tongues of paradise.

07/07/2008

Author's Note: After readings in the inn where St. Monica is believed to have died.

Posted on 07/08/2008
Copyright © 2024 Laurie Duncan

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