Poem: Spring in Lisbon

Spring in Lisbon

The pale indigo fireworks of spring

Stand like guardians

Of my origins.

In this great square

Where the people have fled

The iron and stone pillars

Their rulers dictated they know

I walk this city for one day:

Through the broken urns

Of Phoenicians, and the

Ruined palace stairs

Of the moors,

The warrens of Alfama

And the grand commercial plaza

Now emptied of its empire

And abandoned to hawkers

From the colonies selling

Tinted glass and trinkets.

The streets have only tourists.

The guides speak of Salazar

And forgotten faiths

Of a country ill-at-ease

With its past.

But the jacaranda trees

Sing me from Lisbon to Brisbane

To other disasters

And there I find my spring.

May 2019

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