April Poetry | The Dig

The Dig

by Monica Kezar

When I traveled to Cyprus, I hoped
to find a new passion
to replace an old flame.
I had grown as depleted
as a summer flower
dropping it’s petals,
one by one.

So this year, l will
help unearth
a late Roman basilica
which sits high
on a mound called Sirmata
near the Cypriot village of
Kalavasos.

I could almost believe
peace of mind possible—still,
looking out toward the Mediterranean
my gaze see’s only
New Zealand and
the Tasman Sea.

I need to dig, not reflect,
not wonder where my life’s headed
or if it matters.
My job is to pick up the trowel
and stroke by stroke
uncover a late Roman floor,
to replace illusion with intention.

I cannot speak to the Romans
or the Cypriots.
I can only dig.