My Destinations Come,

But I Never Arrive

By John Herlihy

My destinations come but I never truly arrive,

I accumulate them like pocket treasures to survive.

I have roamed the Byzantine bazaars of Constantinople,

Climbed the seven minor hills that adorn modern Istanbul.

I have heard the whispers amid the ruins of Ephesus,

And walked the broken cobblestones of ancient Rome.

Listened to the cheers in the amphitheater of Pergamon,

And admired the preserved house mosaics of Leptis Magna.

I have whispered prayers at the tomb of the Virgin Mary,

Uttered oaths over the remains of Suleiman the Great.

I have gathered poppies in the highlands of Turkey,

And blew dandelion seeds into the classical Aegean Sea.

What final destination lies in wait remains to be seen,

When I do finally arrive, may the meadows be green.