Ethereal Journeys By Christina Margeti

I’m heading toward Rome’s
forgotten palace.
A small coin of hope
slips through Venice.
Whispers of secret loves
circle around,
still held by time…
In Paris,
on New Year’s Day,
I mingled with the cheering crowd,
insignificant kisses
ward off loneliness.
Souvenirs
from Andalusia,
the magical one…
Tastes of flirtation
and sweet wine
on the palate.
London’s Thames
on a postcard of remembrance.
Big Ben’s
golden clock struck eight.
In Munich
and Frankfurt
the beer sways.
In Berlin’s museums
the hours are intoxicated
by artistic styles.
In Dutch villages,
the boatmen still evoke
those memories.
In the Land of Ice,
I gazed at the Blue Lake,
in the northern lights.
The blue of Siberia
reads Tolstoy,
while the ballets
fill the grand theater
of the Bolshoi.
In India,
I offered a prayer of supplication
to the many-faced deities.
In the Summer Palace of Beijing,
I reflected,
before setting out for the Great Wall
and the Temple of Heaven.
In the Land of the Rising Sun,
the colors of Kyoto
enchanted me…
The gardens, the temples, the castles.
In Canada,
among the frozen mountains,
I encountered beauty!
And down in Australia,
in Melbourne’s balconies,
they bring the lyrics to life.
In the land of the eagle’s circles,
America,
my heart
traced poetic paths
amid the euphoria of Rock.
At Iguazu Falls
I met the Incas
and conversed with the
Aztecs,
at Machu Picchu.
The shamans of the Amazon
wove amulets for me for the journey.
In Varadero, the rum
filled the glasses of Havana
to the brim.
To the rhythms of the bolero,
the wolves dance.
On the Dark Continent,
the percussion still
resounds with catharsis,
high on Mount Kilimanjaro.
On the Niger River,
the local women sing
of the jungle’s breath.
About the buffaloes
and the lions.
In Egypt,
the monuments of the Pharaohs
have set a table for dinner beneath a dome
studded with stars, triangular in shape.
And Babylonian papyri,
have kept vigil through the years.
And in Jordan,
Petra shaped
the Arabian nights,
which the desert chants with reverence.
At the Lions’ Gate,
down in Israel it stood.
The wall of tears,
Jerusalem
still echoes with the Wailing…





