Passeggiata

Passeggiata (pah-sed-JAH-tah - the "i" is not pronounced) is Italian for "stroll."

When I was in the monastery, I wrote a letter to The Distant Belovèd, asking if he'd like to go for an imaginary walk with me in the woods. I then proceeded to describe the scenery along our "walk" as if he were really there with me, as a way to tell him what the monastery was like inside the enclosure walls. In his reply letter, he thanked me for the "passeggiata" through the woods and fields. This inspired the first poem. The second was written some months later, when I was especially missing his company. The two were published together as one piece in the San Antonio Express-News, though they are intended to be two separate poems.

Both of these poems also appeared in the poetry e-zine La Stanza di Nightingale, where they were translated into Italian by poet and author Federica Galetto.


Passeggiata (I)

Walk with me.
The path beckons, winking in the dawn-light,
And the pines' drowsy whisperings call us
To quiet joy. The sun through the branches
Welcomes our like hearts with perceptive arms
Limpid with the memory of darkness.
Now is our moment of peace. We are led
On this narrow way through familiar lands
Defined in my mind, for I have mapped out
All my memories in these woods and fields;
Each blade and limb and stone has its country,
And all sing to me of God's sure blessing.
Could He begrudge me your dear company,
Poignant and wistful as the rain lily
I pressed among words of silent longing?
You are here, belovèd, bright in my heart,
Mine alone for this all-too-fleeting joy;
This, my moment of highest fulfillment,
My spirit and yours, walking together
Hand in hand.                                           (October/07)


Passeggiata (II)

I wonder how the wind feels where you are,
How slowly move the clouds over the trees,
If raindrops have the same pattered footstep
That spots the path winding before me here.
What are the boughs that nod above your head?
Do they smell of past suns cleansed by heaven?
Do they weep slow tears on your opened palm,
Mourning your solitude, though you may not?
Listen to the wind; it perhaps can tell
What I cannot. See how loath are the clouds
To leave your presence; they know my longing.
Let the raindrops lead you to where I am,
Walking lonely among these weeping pines,
Wondering if you wonder as I do.                   (January/08)


Copyright Leticia Austria
Both poems first appeared in The San Antonio Express-News as one poem in two parts, under the title "Passeggiata"