by Best Poem
I enter roofless houses
In the ancient city by the sea,
Follow steps of the dead and hear prayers
Whistle through marble empty spaces.
Gods are moved
Only their stands are left behind.
The agora, empty of conversation and noise.
I climb steps that lead to the temple of Athena.
High Mountain on one side.
Ocean on another.
They were aware of friend and enemy.
Through the waves of time,
Wild fig trees have grown on their own
where doors and windows used to be.
I trip on thousand years
Old rocks fed by the sun.
Lizards taste the heat.
I go higher than my legs can take me,
And I believe
That with a view like this,
There must be more than one god.
Maria Kranidis teaches in the English Department at Suffolk County Community College. She has lived on Long Island, NY, for over twenty years. Born in Greece and raised in New York City, she finds the world to be chaos waiting to be put into order. She goes to Greece every year to find that order…only to discover that she thinks in Greek, writes in English, and feels in both.