Copan Poem

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Crafted with care
by Laura Diaz

December 2010

Inspired by a trip to Copan Ruins

Like a Glorious temple buried under thick jungle brush
Is a life undiscovered

Meaningless lost
It sits there slouching on a hill, unused
Slowly being encircled by vines
Until the color fades to gray
And weeds poke out like a fuzzy layer of hair on a newborn baby

Buried under the weight of centuries
Waiting in a coma
thinking all hope is lost
There is no way out

Until

The Architect returns and

Shovels off the rubble
Chisels away the cakes of dirt
And hacks away the tightly wound vines that have squeezed the song out of this former temple

The Architect whistles as he works
almost as if beckoning the sun to visit this remote spot in the jungle
And tiny beams of light start to trickle through the budding branches above

Piercing the shadows and illuminating the temples' stains and regrets

The Architect climbs

until there are no stairs
and he stands on an overgrown patch, bare feet feeling the cold stone underneath

He looks out at the distant horizon
Recalling his original floor plans

how he formed the temple
He still knows it inside and out
Still loves it deeply
Yet
He has been waiting for this moment

For He is
The one who
sadly watched it's new creation grow apathetic and dull over the years
Fading into the static gray of the world's backdrop
Who watched the magnificent structure lose it's meaning
Lose it's place
Become trapped and absorbed into the wild nature around it
Instead of standing erect and distinct as it was created to be
Though the Architect cried out to it and thrashed his way through the weeds only to be choked out again and again

by the temples stubborn will

The structure sags ashamed
Of it's past
Never having invested it's treasures to gain interest
Not having been prepared for the return of the Architect

Broken beyond repair
It surrenders it's whole self to the Architect
The only one who can restore it and renew it's purpose again

The process is painful
and slow
But the architect is wise
and gentle
Making changes for only what the temple can bear
Patting the newly sanded corner
With reassurance and reminders to be patient and trust despite the desire to escape

Gradually the temple is refinished
And the Architect steps back to admire its grandeur

And steps are formed out of the rubble
leading upward
To a pinnacle where there is a clear view of the sky

He Restores the temple to it's former glory
And it stands
Purposeful and knowing it's
Treasured by the one who built it

The Architect climbs with sure feet
Knowing this temple will always be His home