Istanbul Poem by Weekend Guru

WEEKEND GURU

ISTANBUL POEM

No one told me

of loneliness in Istanbul, the

mosaics of Hagia Sophia nothing more

than repetitions; vivid postcards shimmering,

drifting--and I , dull, impenetrable,

Deaf to a meandering prelude.

Green spring over the Bosporus-

Minarets warned- wailing-ache muezzin calling

fading faithful to prayer; but not mentioned

that this verdant May day was only

fire soon smothered in Turkish nights of

liquid, smoke, and serpentine melodies winding

toward demeure darkness; invited, then discarded by

their themes.

No one told me

that again those sinuous strains, falsetto echoed in

Iberian summer's bare breasts and first flush, would

weave insidiously by discord with blood;

And over the blue arch would come harmonious resignation:

Unison after ignorance.