On the Eve of a Bimillennial

“Once upon a midnight dreary,”
I walked alone, my spirit weary.
The autumn wind rose around me,
An early frost froze the ground below me.

A short walk along the riverbank,
The frigid water, like medieval, stank.
Suddenly a time machine took her
Back to a time more simple, much crueler.

Caesar, like Brigham Young, declared,
“This is the place!” and set’lers shared
What might soon be centuries of war.
From Frank to German; between, many more.

Here d’Artagnan, against these walls, perished,
And citizens defending their home and parish.
Saint Servaas watched over his city so that
It would never fall to an enemy in combat.

And now, three centuries on,
I stand upon the cobblestones,
As the chilling rain falls upon the spires
And carronades of a town as old as an Empire.

What men has this settlement seen?
Alba, Napoleon, Philip, Charlemagne -
All came and went, yet onward she strove.
Onze Lieve Vrouw, with Ave Maria above.

Car whips by, wipers squeaking.
Of a moment, I am returned in my own time,
And the musing of centuries is replaced by
The mundane - shopping, eating, sleeping.

So I begin the wet walk home to Kapoenstraat,
Past street vendors and hardy buskers,
Grinding organs, plucking strings -
And of course, wailing accordions.

How often overlooked are these stoic people,
Who have lasted 2,000 years, and never once
Seen their walls crumble. And only once,
In all those years, has a foe walked your alleys.

Maastricht, my home away from home,
Happy birthday. For you alone can claim
To have killed Dumas-père’s hero,
While he wished you French (God forbid!).

And now at the door, my key in the slot,
I push and the portal opens. Up a flight
Of stairs to a welcoming couch, I sigh
And sleep, dream, wish for days gone by.

Katherine Nora Foster-Morland
*b. 1972*