to Rome, la città aperta
The light here is ancient,
the chaos older still—
buzzing across the Appian Way,
but one of the every that lead
to the city eternal, suspended,
you can hear her muffled roars,
traces of a hungry mouth with frazzled mane
a cracked throat craving aqueducts defunct,
now long dry and thistle crowned.
What could appear as more bereft
than landscapes of rubble, marble stripped
and sun burnt, awaiting still another ravaging?
Yet therein is her secret held:
there remains in these fabled ruins,
bequeathed to us as though our coming
had been foretold, a quivering palpable
beneath the footfalls of our approach
waiting to be given voice and body—
for a city is never completed,
Poem by David Warren Grunner and Photographs by Nic Rue.