Springtime on the Mesogeion plain.
‘cross puddles left by intermittent rain
the broken stonework half concealed is strewn
beneath the baking sun of Attic noon.
Coloured blooms peek round the waving grass
as through the broken sanctuary I pass
a lone apostle from a future race
who tries to guess the meaning of this place.
What mystic ritual was taught just here
between the temple’s stone and waters clear.
small virgins brought to dance before the bears
proud parents seated watching on the stairs ?
Or was it terror, sacrifice and pain
inhuman suffering for godly gain ?
poor bodies ripped apart by vicious claws
to satisfy the ignorance of laws.
We cannot know what mysteries were planned
by wise or cruel, perverse or saintly hand
to please twin tyrannies – effect and cause
to win good harvest or success in wars.
So let us not in our enlightened times
be hypocritical in reading history’s signs
for we too trade our offspring for a blessing
in ancient instinct’s tangled intercessing.
GRC v 13
Original event 2001