A Journey Hosted by the Dead
Untitled Poem by Justinas Marcinkevičius (translated from Lithuanian)
In my body — my ancestors.
In their hands I touch
the old
worn apple tree
like it’s mine.
Their pains
displayed in my eyes,
when I look upon the world.
Sometimes
they shine upon me their quiet
everyday holy
happiness.
It would be helpful,
if I could speak
their words.
As is customary at a Lithuanian repast (meal after a funeral), when the spirit of the moment or recently deceased moves you — you stand, you speak. The spirit of that which I don‘t know moved my neighbor at the table to recite the previous poem during the repast for my wife‘s grandmother, „Bobutė“.
More people were moved, more people spoke. Each illuminated the greatness of Bobutė and her will to fight for her family and for our dear Lithuania, a will now passed to the living family.
It was for Bobutė that I frequently traveled to Lithuania these last few years. It was for Bobutė that I came back for one long trip that may be my last for a long time. So it‘s for Bobutė that I thank for this trip, this wonderful sabbatical, this extended time to be among the land of my ancestors.
And what a trip it was.
I spent time with friends and family. I made friends with strangers. I found family in a village in the woods my own line had left over a century ago.
Time slowed down. I discovered art through music, artwork, sound, and words.
Strangers emptied their knowledge onto me of histories told too infrequently. Histories mixed with triumphs, tragedies, challenges, and reflections. I wish I could share everything I learned about Lithuania‘s Jews, Belarussians, and Karaims, but instead I‘ll have to shine a light as best as I can.
I met with fascinating people. People of the everyday extraordinary, the kind, the activist, and the high-level political leaders. Geez I even had an advocacy meeting (virtual) with someone from the White House.
I feel more grounded, rejuvenated, and the trip was spiritual too.
I wish I could share my whole experience with you. What I can share are 10 separate blog posts once a week of different thoughts from Vilnius.
Then as a bonus, I’ll share a few chapters from a novel I’m writing called Amber Queen. A very good portion was written in Lithuania, and I hope to have the first draft finished soon.
Thank you for reading. I hope that like me, you’ll have a chance to slow down, reflect, and feel what I want to share with you.
To begin, please enjoy this poem I wrote in my early days in Vilnius.
Who Do You Belong To, Vilnius?
Who do you belong to, Vilnius?
If that’s even your real name..
Or do you go by Vilna, Wilno, Вильнюс or ווילנע?
Do you belong to the Lithuanians? You became their capital after the locals cried Te žydi Lietuva!
But what about the Belarusians, who now chant Жыве Беларусь in your streets?
Or to the good ‘ole US of A? You’re always asking it for help.
And that Russian Federation? You know they want to take you back.
What about your historical ties?
While you said you were Polish, you were also the Jerusalem of the North.
I know… You were Jerusalem of the North back when Napoleon walked your streets too.
Speaking of Jerusalem, can a religion claim you too?
You look pretty Catholic now with all your relics, mighty churches, and Cathedral.
That come from the five saints that graced your streets?
I won’t forget the ghosts of your synagogues and the one that still stands proud today.
The Gaon Eliyahu and Vilna Talmud have their souls tied with yours.
You also used to be pretty pagan.
I guess you’re making a comeback with that too, huh. Or did that just never leave?
Are you a city home to Righteousness?
Your people fought off tanks with their bare hands.
Or does Evil want to claim you too?
The pits of Paneriai are visible wounds that may never fully heal.
Are you a city of the past? Your walls of centuries long ago welcome the guests of today.
Or do you belong to the future? Will your freedom ring permanently?
Does your city of today belong to the young who feed you with life?
What about the elders who shook you from oppression and now enjoy the fruits of freedom?
Vilnius, oh wonderful Vilnius.
Stay true to who you are. Whoever you are.
And may you live forever to be free.
This post is the first in a series called “10 Thoughts from Vilnius” by Vytautas Aukštuolis. Posts released Tuesday mornings. Please subscribe to my channels on Medium, Twitter, Facebook, and Baltivist.com.
Thought #1: A Journey Hosted by the Dead
Thought #2: “Hi, I’m your distant cousin. Do you want to see where your ancestors lived?”
Thought #3: A Poem Offering Peace
Thought #4: Front Lines of Belarusian Protests
Thought #5: The Difficult Question Facing the Belarusian Freedom Movement
Thought #6: Discovering Jewish Life of Vilnius
