A beautiful path with cherry blossomed trees leading up to the grassy oasis that is hardly a city of the dead. 6th Century BC in 21st century AD. Death and life, growth and decay, fresh beauty and ancient ruins all coexisting.
Empty tombs with only prehistoric looking plants growing
around the stone benches under the spider webs---we take nothing with us, and
we took their amphora vases out of their tufa graves too late for them to know
that.
A ghost town for the sorrows carried by those of us in our
community to sojourn: the draining of life of loved ones of our professors,
death of friends and grandfathers, distance from familiarity, old burdens and
struggles that remain despite the Italian sun and gelato.
Henry Nouwen told us that because a tree is useless, that is
how it can grow tall and give shade and beauty. Life is not a possession to be
defended, but a gift to be given. Take the world seriously, but not too
seriously.
Dante Purgatorio Canto X:
sculpted there put eyes and nose
in discord, caught between yes and no.
There the humble psalmist leaped in dance
Before the blessed vessel with his robe hitched up---
And was at once both more and less than a king.”
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