Travel Poems

One about the Sacred Valley and one about the Galapágos -- very different experiences, but each quite wonderful in its own way.


Sacred Valley

Granite blocks stand at the Navel of the World
nestle together like lovers
lean like friends drunk on chicha
against earthquakes, storms
and the stretch of years beyond imagination

The Four Nations of Tawantinsuyo are no more
but we live in the Quechua memories of our children
Our songs echo in valleys and on mountains
telling the legend of Pachacutec the Earth-shaker

Our holy places the foundations of
conquistador churches
Pachamama the Earth and Inti the Sun
reborn as Virgin Mother and Holy Spirit.


Galápagos

We walk on narrow trails
through nesting grounds
past nursing sea lions
over sand, rocks and coral

The animals neither know nor care
that these paths are
meant to keep us apart

Beside us an iguana –
miniature monster from
a science fiction epic –
bobs his head at a rival
to proclaim his sovereignty

A tiny lizard scuttles across our feet
searching for a sunny spot to
warm her cold blood

Cloisonné crabs cling to lava
iridescent frigate birds preen
giant tortoises – their shells smooth with age –
lumber across muddy meadows

Blue-footed boobies baby-sit
balls of white fluff
who stretch their beaks
flex their wings and beg for food.

At night we sit on deck
nurse cold beers
gaze at cinematic sea and sunset
and talk about our real lives.