Anne Ruth Rodopoulos Australia: history of Greece will never die..!

 A Poem by Anne

A child of tender age and sensitive in ways unusual to most,

why can they not understand,

don't they know she can understand their language?

mouth and muscles are not enough formed.

Knows her mother is too busy in mundane tasks to really see this,

plus war with Japan , and three other children.

Poor mother fatigued past her limit.

tiny pale skinned golden haired baby knows the impossibility of using their language.
Frustrating to know every word and gesture and mouth of the baby is unresponsive

Decision made to wail loudly ,as any sound that is loud will seek attention .

Mother, no response,

Church bells sound the baby knows instinctively from watching,
that mother has gone to pray in the church.

Sleep soothes.

A heavy load of books.

The child begins school and takes a tiny book of Greek legends,

to escape from meaning -less drone of the teacher.

“ Pay attention “ punctuated by a painful strike with a wooden cane.

It was a pain bearable as she stayed for hours on a wooden boat
on the azure and cobalt seas of the Aegean 

Escape to a wondrous ancient land of Mythical tales of Islands,

baring their rocky heads,

swirling in sea mist and early morning cool,

of the silver sparkle, of a new day, dropping tiny diamonds of irresistible,
piercing light to adorn the untamed sea,

The sea , magnificent, a royal blue velvet undulating cloak of mystery and depth,
danger and memories, never erased.

There is an annoyance from her day dreaming as the years pass,

mountains of books and mediocre homework from school .

Hidden always a tiny book of Ancient Greece, how to learn Katharevesa,

Music from ancient Delphi is found on a column in a temple.
She plays this Hymn constantly.

“STOP“ daydreaming said in various modes, from Sforzando, crescendo, allegro,
andante until largo dolmente. Silence profound with annoyance.

They still don't believe her that her brain is “different “
and having total recall would be discarded, so she stays silent.

Her husband is Greek and also thinks in a more sensible and practical way.

She stays silent.

Her non critical believer is a Greek professor
who she tells of her previous dream life spent in ancient Athens and of seeing most recently,
two ancient people walking towards her.

She tells him , in detail of the people she saw in the ancient theatre.
That her friend Christos took her to see and feel.

She tells him of the people and their questionable,
food throwing behaviour and how they looked and spoke
Of how they arrived and how they brought special cushions to ease the coldness of marble seats.

He was surprised and verified everything, saying that is recorded in an ancient poem
that she had never seen as yet, never seen but she was there.

Women, she tells him of how they look and a sense of fear comes
over her as they speak of barbarous behaviour of the return of their husbands from the sea battles,
and white painted faces,

animated and fearful. Dark rose coloured lips speak of war.

She tells him that the road she saw as they walked,

appeared to be polished ocean worn stones,

the professor tells her it is all possible and accurate and he has met others
who experience the reality of Ancient times.

She lives in Oceania but her soul travels amongst the exquisite wild flowers near the theatre,

She watches as her lovely friend Yana gathers a frail papery pastel bunch.

Pastel pinks and purples how this soil always produces the best of everything.

The history of Greece will never die and must always be part of human experiences and learning.
Anne Ruth Rodopoulos
26.4.2016
Australia