Miracle
It is a miracle – he says – even more than a miracle
where everything is exhausted (and first of all me) I discover
amid the pebbles at the seashore the holy skull
of one of Achille’s horses – perhaps that of Xanthos
amid the chamomiles I discover the Patriarch’s crutch
I lift it reverently I climb up the marble stairs
I don’t pound the steps with it scores of people gather
I stand before the podium I feel my hair becoming motionless
flowing on my shoulders scores of people can’t wait they jostle
I open my mouth to speak and suddenly I understand
that I am deaf and they hear me
Manolis Aligizakis 