Mistra Memorial
To go back again was like gazing through a pool of
water, the images that shifted and appeared there,
were like that of a dream.
Standing with my child on my arm
high on the rocky outcrops,
part of the exodus. I had always
held a fascination for deserted
places, and now I remembered why.
I had a memory there.
Too many Falls, not just
one, taken over again and
again, until at last my
husband and I, with child,
left with only what we could carry,
and joined the caravan of nomads
that would lead us to safety
and a new life.
The despair at the loss
of Beauty, the true art of society, was too much to
bear, so it lived on in memory -
to fertilize there.
copyright Monika Roleff 2005.
Image Credits, Nationmaster - The Morea and surrounding states carved from the Byzantine Empire, as they were in 1265 (William R. Shepherd, Historical Atlas, 1911)
posted by Imogen Crest @ 8:11 PM
4 comments
The 
4 Comments:
This has bought back memories not only of Mistra but of a tiny, abandoned, broken, crumbling village, on the coast of Ireland. We paid five pounds at the gate and wandered down a long winding track until we came to the place that had long been abandoned, bar for a hermit who lived in a derelict boat, with his dog. The fellow was charming and asked me why I was hanging about with this fellow (Darryl) when I could come and live with him on his boat. I laughed merrily and told him that flattery like this usually got people all they wished for, but his wish could not be granted. He left us be and we had an idyllic few hours wandering in and out of the deserted homes and then sat, drinking tea from out thermos, listening to Danny Boy.
love Heather
This is such a beautiful memory and might be nice to post on the main blogger of the Hermitage...what do you think? What a faerie happening - I love things like this...how lovely..mystical...imagine if his thoughts were all put in a book...there would have been many.
It was a faerie happening Monika. Indeed, our six months were filled with faerie magic that is hard to capture now. Maybe if I find my photos of that deserted place, not so far from Galway Bay, I will write something longer. It was an amazing find. The Hermit told us that all the villagers left for America in the late 40's and now Mother Nature is its gate keeper. It struck us that it would have been a most forlorn outpost in which to live.
There is always that side, isn't there, the reason people moved on, often for good reason. Perhaps nature reclaims her space...either way I would love to know more when you feel the time is right...fascinating stuff! It's all poetry isn't it?
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