On a stormy winter night, I swam across the Hellespont, plunging into Helle’s watery grave much like Leander, ready to drown in pursuit of Hero’s light. I braved the troubled Marmara Sea, where the tempest could set me back, and upon reaching the seven hills of Byzántion, I sought guidance from the Haliç and the Boğaz about the path to her heart. Standing in the shrine’s courtyard, I knelt before the minarets, praying to the indifferent sky to guide me to the gate leading to her heart. I wandered through narrow alleyways, stepped on ancient stones. and begged the wise voices for the key that would unlock her heart. But the winding journey was long, the gate remained impenetrable, and despite my persistent pleas, the master key was denied. Now I must turn back. Yet the road ahead feels longer, larger the despair, and heavier the sadness.
© William Almonte Jiménez, 2011
