Footprints of the poet
(📝Marcella Boccia)
I tread where Yeats
once walked alone
His voice now echoes
through the stone
Each cobbled step
a fleeting rhyme
Each shadow
whispers of his time
The city’s breath
a restless thing
Aching with songs
it cannot sing
And I
a stranger
not my own
Am bound by words
I’ve never known
Beneath my feet
her footprints lay
Rachel’s art
her silent play
Yet more than bronze
beneath my heel
The weight of verse
I cannot seal
For madness waits
a patient guest
When silence
robs the soul of rest
And so I write
though not my tongue
A borrowed hymn
a song unsung
Oh Yeats
your shadow burns my mind
A blazing torch
I cannot bind
Your words
a mirror
cold and clear
Reflect the truths
I’d most revere
I walk your streets
your sacred ground
The rebel’s cry
the mournful sound
In every step
in every stone
I hear the voice
that claims my own
This need to write
this fierce demand
To grasp the fleeting
with my hand
To carve the chaos into line
To wrest from sorrow
something divine
And though the verses
twist and fray
And language falters
falls away
These borrowed words
though not my start
Have now become
my restless heart