Renatus
I greet you warm brightness,
you white light of day,
we recited Blaumanis' poem
in grade school in Latvia.
I greet you, oh sun, oh sun!
no cloud hid you in envy
no wet mist of autumn.
I feel the old pagan roots,
remember the grey slush
on Riga streets on my first
return, still Soviet drab.
Here in Ithaca, we're starved
for sun too. In February
grey overcomes, while
the reborn defend marriage,
wars go on and spread,
species disappear.
It was death that spread
its blueblack blanket
between you and me
Mv ancestors notion of
rebirth was not Christian -
when the Knights dragged them
to baptism, they ran to the
river to wash it off, but the sun
was a great goddess.
The sun is out, I yell,
it's out, reborn for the day
in my own way.
Inta Ezergaile