Upon Experiencing Rome
By David Niall Wilson
Coming in
Along the old Appian Way,
Umbrella pines
Lining each side of the road,
Silent sentinels
Guarding the remains
Of armies,
Now dust in her ditches,
The sound of marching feet
And clarion cries of horns
Proclaiming our arrival
Echoed through stone
Flew from watchtowers
To palaces and back again,
Welcomed us through the gates
Of time.
Droning guide voice,
Bearing witness to the past,
unfolded wonders in monotones,
Bridges standing since
Before the birth of Christ,
Temples built
By Sunday School Cartoon heroes,
A tiny country,
Within a country, infallible,
With forgiveness for all
Who are not wearing shorts.
Chariot tracks,
Minus the betting booths,
The Coliseum,
It’s ghosts crying out
In a hundred different tongues
For freedom Long since lost.
Leaving with the invading force
Phalanx of tourists,
Veni, Vidi, Vici no longer
Our credo . . .
Replaced by Been there, Seen that,
Own a souvenir.
The Appian Way opens her doors
A final time,
And Rome recedes to her home
In Bullfinch’s Mythology,
Intact, and somehow much more real.
12:11 9/23/1994
Written by David Wilson - Visit WebsiteFollow me on Twitter
