By Ishmael von Heidrick-Barnes
LEAVING THE UNDERWORLD
Why
travel 7,000 miles
through 9 time zones
metal detectors
security checkpoints
layovers?
Endure delays
breathe recirculated air
exchange one currency for another
at inflated rates?
Why
leave the comfort of one’s native language
for a foreign tongue
landing
on an island
surrounded by turbulence
gambled away by offshore money lenders –
it’s geography: A garment
divided between soldiers
of foreign empires?
Why
abandon hundreds of square miles
parading tidy stuccoed houses
for Cyclops roundabouts
overrun by highway robbery
bailouts
concealed under the helmet of Hades
I’d climb up
out of the underworld this afternoon
if it meant I could wake up
to bread warm from the baker’s oven
Kalamata olives
handpicked in the Peloponnese
the music ouzo makes when it kisses ice in a glass
To be welcomed by strangers
in village coffeeshops
under blazing Mediterranean sun
slowing busy afternoon streets to a crawl
forcing the population to swim
in operatic conversations
of poetry, politics, and love
I’d go
without a second’s thought
because the trees
are deeply rooted in pottery shards
older than the written word
and traditions don’t erode in cloudbursts
I’d make the journey
because money
isn’t worth much on Aphrodite’s island
and that doubles the value of relationships
I’d trade
the myth of the American Dream
for strolls along flower-lined walkways
to a seafront bench
where friendships ferment
over glasses of Commandaria
sinking the ship
wrecked
in bottles of amber sunlight