In Transit Transylvania: Poems from a Romanian Road-trip

Slanic — Cornu

In forward motion

rests the spirit sacred:

home being neither from where we have come

nor where we have yet to go,

but the sanctified space

between.

See it present

in the careening gifts

of the body universal.

To peer deeply into the micro

scope of subatomic wonder

is to chart the transit

of whirligig galaxies.

Cornu — Bresov

I am just

a man in search of God,

straddling the median

on a road in which saints pass hither

and sinners pass yon.

Still I do not know

the true spirit of the powers I pursue,

as glimpses sustain

me on a path intangible:

surely climbing, treading

both lightly and overladen

on trails ephemeral through heaven and hell

and the clumsy masterwork of our world

between.

Sighisoara — Alba Iulia

When the call to adventure sounds,

in what range

of earshot will I be

to hear calamitous bells

and know that in their pealing doom

sings the choir celestial?

For all that stands

to tear my world asunder

laughs a secret laugh:

gleefully aware of the tomb

as the womb of all things born and yet to be,

waiting sleepily beneath

the fertile wreckage.

Alba Iulia — Sibiu

“Here I am,”

proclaimed he who hurled himself

into the heart of the world,

and in so doing,

the heart of his own coursing

existence.

Upon speaking, the words

themselves the earliest incantation,

he enacted the sacred rite

of paying tribute to being

in time and space.

Beyond the passage

of this timeless ritual,

all else is idle play.