by Jennifer L. Jacoby
Cobblestone streets hint of stories untold, echo
Whispers of lovers lost and forgotten. Modern
Residents rush by. They cannot see the footprints.
Broken and gutted cars fill this wasteland, rusting
Into the earth. Each model, a dream brought into
Creation. How many here will leave their footprints?
For the love of Athena, the acropolis
Stands. Here Plato and Socrates walked, dreamt and loved.
Today, head bowed in awe, I stand in their footprints.
Stones stand silently in circles upon the moor,
Trace the love-making of Moon, Sun and Earth. The
Ancients understood: Love is to dance in these footprints.
The sufi spins. The mystic dreams. The druid sits
With trees, rocks and sunset. All to hear the Sacred.
If God is everywhere, what shape are His footprints?
The earth and the forest absorb each step, become
And transform with each Walking. They need our love, as
We need theirs. Chiya, true loving leaves no footprints.
Peace and long life… Jennifer