Guatemala

Where are you princess 
 in the volcanic skies
Looking down on Atitlan
 -- its pure deep gray green	
Inviting my soul
  to dwell
And live among the
   Mayan echoes
A culture amid cultures
 in tradition's garb
Ancient rituals and
  spirited independence
Across the lake
  in Santa Catarina
Among the merchants
     and the players
We dallied and
  peered inward
    to that ancient
      way

Where are you princess
  in the echoing cloisters
Of an old Spanish church
In Chichicastenango
Old customs, time
  held rituals
Kneeling, chanting
    rhymes to
  ancient gods
    and spirits
     heard
Amid the flickering
   candles of
 Mother Mary's Church
Ancient spirits,
  souls lingering
 in the dark corners
  of that white
   church
On market day





Where are you princess
  in the courtyard
 of that Spanish home
In the cobbled streets
  lingering
The strains of the
  marimba players
And the languid 
   caress of a tropical
     evening
Bougainvilleas and
   passion flowers
  kissing my vision
In the beauty
   of a Guatemalan
      dark blue sky
And there, in
  the shadows
My princess watches


Where are you princess
   in the breaking dawn
Gliding across the
   deep waters
      of Atitlan
Are you in the market
   place
Or at the water's 
   edge
Washing clothes
  and waiting
    for another day
Or are you in
  my mind
    a vision lost
 in the strife
   and bullets
Clinging to your
       existence
But dying in
   the shadows
     of that church
   in Chichicastenango