Muzeul Național de Artă – O proud flower, What should I do?

FIRST FLOOR ~ Gallery of Church Relics ~

Goblets, epitrahils, altar pieces, 
the Archangel Michael guarding thresholds,
iconostasis crosses, octagonal analogions, 
tankards from Transylvania

I reached my threshold for Christian art long ago,
back in Vienna (country #32)
Still, the Orthodox icons hold some interest—
they remind me of the Hindu pantheon

SECOND FLOOR ALCOVE ~ Portraits ~

A chancellor’s wife, a boyar and a girl, a man in Oriental costume, 
the wife of the minister of affairs, the minister of internal affairs, 
an Albanian mercenary, the poet Ienăchiță Văcărescu

I think of dead rich people—
and one poet worthy of remembrance

THIRD FLOOR ~ Gallery of Modern Artwork ~

Portraits, still lifes, nudes, scenery—
Vlad the Impaler and Turkish Envoys,
an evening party, a garden party, a party with musicians,
even, a Jew with a Goose

I pause for a moment 
before The Gypsy Girl from Ghergani—
her half-smile and open dress, 
a coin necklace resting at her neckline,
her inviting gaze holds me still

I welcome the modern art—
its color, its bodies, the obsession with sensual form
…a veiled nude, an Electric Madonna, an Odalisque

Time to move to the next building
I ride the Art Deco elevator up to the third floor
while flower leaf motifs scroll past 

NEW WING ~ Oriental Art Gallery ~

Samurai armor, unsheathed katanas, golden Buddhas, 
lacquered wood, ivory carvings, porcelain gods,
scrolls of royal hunts beginning and ending in bold kanji

Japanese art—exotic but familiar
I’ve studied it, been to Japan

After 52 countries,
everything begins to blur
Now, I flip trinkets
to check if they’re Made in China

I pause—
overwhelmed by the flood of objects
unable to find the truth within their display
I am ready to descend the three flights

But—

ONE MORE EXHIBIT ~ Gallery of Europe ~

White-and-blue ceramics, bronze-brushed dishes,
ornate furniture everywhere…

How much material do the wealthy accrue,
across cultures and centuries?

Chairs with sphinxes inlaid in the armrests,
dressers carved with ornate flourishes,
clocks, pocket watches, and candelabras

I have reached my fill
Instead of the elevator 
I walk down the stairs,
back into myself

O proud flower,
What should I do?
Leave you here—
Or carry you too?

No—better I leave you
In your garden fair,
To grow in peace
In your own air.

—Ienăchiță Văcărescu, “In a Garden”

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Photo by Sven de Koe on Unsplash