Poetry
Meena Alexander
At the Shrine of St. Naum In a place of rock and dry weather trees, Close to a lake called Ohrid Etched on a map we had never seen We found the river Treska: A bruised tenderness, a lingering in moonlight. Our spirits leapt in sweat stained cloth Sparrows bristled in the mulberry tree, Such tiny things, birds in a tree Afloat in a light which has no source. Your hands the color of light which has no source. You stroked my spine, that childhood spot Where I was hurt, hard against a monsoon wall When mulberries stained even sand. I kneel at a healer’s shrine, cup my ear to polished stone, I try to catch a lost heart beating. You stand there watching me, Your back against the fresco of a man Torn apart by stout ropes Sempiternal torment of the damned. Naum of Ohrid, Teach us how to reach those we love, How not to weep, How to give praise When slow rocks quake. Note: The river Treska is in Macedonia – the word treska means fever.
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