Roma, <br />I never visited you before this. <br />I have dreamt of you, but in my dreams <br />I never touched you- not as I touch you now. <br />Today, I have seen your shells of stained colors <br />Sparkle and twist by light, <br />Staining the pews and ivory giants <br />The brilliant shades of your faith. <br />I stepped and stumbled on white-faced stones, <br />And secretly pressed my pink palm on your cold marble, <br />In natural rainbow values. <br />So bright, vast walls were designed <br />And painted just with your stones. <br />Azure, pink, caramel, and emerald dreams of nature. <br />All marble, all fantastic. <br /> <br />Today you welcomed me into your altars and cathedrals, <br />You presented me to your martyrs, who told me their story <br />In their carved gestures and carved books. <br />So cherished are their teachings- <br />These treasures of marble <br />Pages are chiseled into their ivory hands. <br />'Ars Longa, Vita Brevis' <br /> <br />I searched the details of their feet I could not reach <br />And further walked this hall of colossal saints and apostles, <br />Equally high. They were not meant to be touched <br />By these mortal hands. They had endured too much. <br /> <br />Today, your temples, worn as patches of identity, <br />Stand as primitive and earthly as carved mountains <br />Quietly regning over your dwelling fellow hearts <br />After two thousand years; narrating a story of sensual art <br />As ancient as it is modern. So modern, <br />We visit your faith, to learn- and return, to learn more. <br /> <br />History will always mother and lead a civilization, <br />but you will always be the mother of history, for on your bruised <br />Hand sprawls two parallel cities, one <br />Mastering the untouched golden and marble <br />Statues of time, virtue and blood, <br />The other, a modern stage for comfort play. <br /> <br />Roma, on your creased palm of seven hills <br />Lies a world as unmarred as the virtuous talent <br />of speech, grace, and mortal art found in your sons <br />And daughters; your children we call eternal masters.<br /><br />Masiela Lusha<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/roma-i/
