Another travel poem written while I was in Guatemala.
Where full moons shine on cobblestones
And sunshine bleaches Mayan bones
Volcanos stand so strong and tall
And often Fuego makes a call
With smoky signals from his crown,
Or, is that a Vulcan frown?
To let all those way down below
See his force and let them know
Just how temporary life can be
While he stands tall for all to see?
Antigua, where bougainvillea flowers
And Jacarandas send purple showers
Where Mayans walk with grace and sway
Bearing baskets on heads all day,
Where churches fell so long ago
From Hades quakes so far below,
The ruins stand in memory
Reminders for all here to see
That any day or night or year
It could repeat and end right here,
Antigua could become Pompeii
With no-one left to clearly say
What really happened in this town
When lava flowed the whole way down,
But meanwhile, midst techtonic plates
People live, still tempting fate,
Mayans walk on cobblestones
And sunshine bleaches their old bones.
Helene Jermolajew 2014 ©