Ikon

At the Monastery of the Prophet Ilias
Mount Parnassos, Greece
 

Bells sprinkled us with notes
like raindrops, motley goats
broke from low cloud, along the high
and stony road to Parnassos.

Walls materialised from vapour,
gateway sealed with clammy shrouds,
garden jostling with ghosts of lemon,
basil, rosemary, thorn and aromatic
leaf, artichoke and almond tree,
three dim forms that loomed into three
cassocks. Two sisters, young and gentle-
faced, and one old monk sat down
to tea; thimble-glasses filled with raki,
fire to dissipate chill doubt. The air
in the refectory was warm, the faces
welcoming...

The brown eyes of a nun caressed
the small blond boy. She kissed
his head, and offered him an ikon
of the Virgin, which she blessed.
The sisters fed him oranges
that glowed like lamps
and, as we left, their kindness
warmed our hearts, as fledglings
warm the hollow of a nest.

The nun's eyes watch
the tall boy's rest -
the ikon hangs
above his bed.


1993
for Romany