Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Lunch with Beatka
The two of us rested wearily on the church steps, me on my back gazing
up at the one of Evanston's last Dutch Elm trees and she up propped
against a copper stuatue of some catholic patron saint.
I turn my head to stare up at her, and find her Athena eyes shining
with the depth of her thoughts. She is missing it more than usual
today...and I need to hear of places other than here... so I begin.
Knowing it is never enough to simply ask for handouts for stories of
Poland I instigate with a typical statement of "American ignorance."
"I want to take a trip to the mountains someday. I love the mountains."
"American mountains are not mountains. You don't know what you are
Shading my eyes with the back of my hand,I gaze upward."
"What do you mean...?"
She is quiet and and her face is distanst...but not with disinterest.
Her mind is taking her there. And so I wait, squinting at a squirrel
with my right eye, then the left, then the right again-to make him
move without moving.
She sighs a homesick sigh and I settle into the sun. I know she is
there now, and now she will begin to tell me what she sees.
"The polish mountains are unlike any other. God himself walks there.
Such Beauty and Splendor do not exist where He is not. there are
lakes, lakes we call the...how you call it? Sea eye?"
..."eye of the sea?"
"yes, With waters deep, clear and blue. The trees are trees you can
talk to, with wisdom from long ago, standing like kings so tall and
proud. Everything there is pure and still. The colors cannot be
caught...the air teaches you to breathe..."
She continues on, and the sound of her voice and summer winds merge
together to become a Polish lullably with all the magic and fantasy of
the mountain forests. I fall lazily, in and out of consciousness now-
a time traveler.
the church steps to diamond covered waters
the church steps to boulders laden with moss of flueorescent green
the church steps to a cottage at the foot of the incline with linens
blowing in the wind...
the church steps to.
the church bell,
ringing the end of my journey.
we leave the spot in silence,
and recluctantly make our way back into the flurescent lights of the
office. We put our bags on the lunch table littered with american news
and american stars and american drama...
the Dr. is asking everyone where we went for lunch.
i leave the room in a secret smile.
Polonia. We went to Polonia.
Posted by Jekisa Jean at 7:04 PM