Helena's Ode

Young tempest, strikes of might against a brickfull home. If I cease with this high strung night, what shall it be? Battles of this Grecian paradise are legendary, the cordoned arena screams of a Byzantine power, the Turkish war cries in the middle of the night. The last of the tribes and their ouzo dowsed insanities. Sometimes you are not as much in possession of your past as it is of you. Slit throats, gurgling blood pools into the salt white seas, the demise of an Era. I shiver with reverence – to my unclaimed Gods and my undying ancestors. The Minon muses, I beg of thee to divulge the secrets into my frequently solitary heart. I know that in my car is an old and crippled book of an epiphany- Herodotus in my mind’s eye; I can imagine my end in the lap of this alluring concubine. I have been married to New York and my secret affair with Greece(Athens)is as much a truth as that. The Corinthian pillars harbor an overriding love for misguided and kaput souls like mine. The kind of love that sets you free of the weights that pull you down. The must be the beginning of t infinity.