νεφέλη (Nepheli / Cloud)

 

 

along the rivers feeding the heart of antiquity

between Syntagma‘s cobbles, newborn buds 

sprout wings, lime green and reaching for Heavens

their magnolia lips, ethereal, spice-perfumed like me

 

in the whispered corners of Plaka 

where even the all-seeing glow of Helios is criminal 

and powerless against the music of the original sin,

my fingerprints decorate the tearful walls

 

the mischievous winds carry my name

racing the Nereids along the shores of Piraeus 

howling across Poseidonic waters

branding every feverish droplet with my breath

 

and in the very stones that once shaped the might of Akropolis 

in the immortal veins of Gods

in the breath of Olympus that blessed life to Earth

is me, flowing, free, and complete, at home.