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WINTER 2018-2019


Maria Kranidis


It rained all day in the city
The airport could not be seen
The clouds fell low
And the drops by the window
Kept falling-following each other
As a sadness with a cause
This city can make anyone cry
The palm trees lined up along the old streets
Are heavy with Christmas lights
The graveyards always grey and ash white, standing above ground
Tall in the wind and rain
As if the dead are telling the storm:
“Go ahead and blow, you don’t scare us!”
Beads are hanging remnants
Of times past and remainders of times to come…
Some dead flowers are leaning over the metal rails of balconies
While the artists claimed their spot in every corner
Violin, pop, and jazz, echoes from all over
The mimes look almost frozen in time
While the horses pose, in total boredom and obedience
In front of new strangers whose weight will be carried around the old city
They take their time turning around the busy streets,
They stop traffic, they claim these streets
As if they have ingrate knowledge of the grounds they step on,
They are thirsty, their tongues show it,
Their eyes are large with fatigue of looking at smiles
No mercy for the living here
Only history is reserved
By the graveyards, by the rocks, the buildings
And the endless river that caresses the edges of this city smoothly like a lover
Before things go wrong, before an argument,
Before a hurtful thing is said
Before the sin
Promises are believable in the calmness before the rain water
Beats the earth breathless
Under a cloudy sky
When it feels like the sun will never return
When it feels like the end is in the middle of December
But when the warmth is bight in the square the soul lives
Where people hold a city together with their love
Something so alive cannot die without a fight
The ones who went against all law
Nature and government alike
And stayed to clean up and feed the memory with hope
The ones who continued signing
The same old song
And smile to their own stories
This city in its mad struggle to survive
And in its strength to be reborn
 Breaths one with its people
The ones that build it
The enslaved spirits that are now free
With magic black and white
The same history that makes fools of us all
With shame
Then like air spirits feed the green
And grows ivy like ornaments on rocks
Every fight gets us closer to the truth
That some things are meant to be
And those deaths give us real life
The spirits of the dead rise with me in the sky
As the plane lifts me higher
And slices through clouds
Big clouds like the ones children clime
Think- we can touch and travel on
Through some magical sacred place
Going through the sky
Above New Orleans
I see that between cloud and eternity there is nothing
All magic stayed behind



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