Sunrise over Rome, seen from a terrace above Trastevere. The light of a new day lifting the city out of darkness. A city whose history is written in blood, beauty and stone, and the power and glory of the gods. Where pilgrims and tourists come with their burdens of faith and doubt, their yearnings for eternity and their restless quest for novelty. Sights ticked off the bucket list. The Colosseum. The Vatican. Piazza Navona, where Bernini’s muscular river gods sport themselves on the site where Saint Agnes was martyred. They say she is the patron saint of young girls, chastity, rape survivors, and the children of Mary. In secret churches darkly lit, the Virgin weeps and feeds the hungry child. Does she weep for all the virgin martyrs who were told that purity is more sacred than life?
Mournful song of loss, hope, missed opportunities. Amidst it all He comes in the small daily exchanges with nature, with others, in our celebrations. A wonderfully spoken advent reflection. Thank you Tina.
Thank you, Professor. We carry layers of our own family history, memory, suffering, yearning as we move from here to there in the daily shuffle. We are connected to those bones and stones left in the arms of the ocean. And I sit with this, now, in absorbing your reflection.
A fine poem by an Alberta writer; and an insightful presenter on a lovely Poetry podcast, Professor. How very lucky to be in this space … where interconnected pathways to discovery seem to gently come into view, one after another. Ruminating - and marvelling - on that, while a fine snow falls here. ☕️ Thank you (seems feeble - but stands) for now.
Mournful song of loss, hope, missed opportunities. Amidst it all He comes in the small daily exchanges with nature, with others, in our celebrations. A wonderfully spoken advent reflection. Thank you Tina.
Thank you dear Thérèse.
Absolutely beautiful. Thank you Tina.
Thank you, Professor. We carry layers of our own family history, memory, suffering, yearning as we move from here to there in the daily shuffle. We are connected to those bones and stones left in the arms of the ocean. And I sit with this, now, in absorbing your reflection.
Thank you.
That's such a lovely comment Louise - thank you. It evokes a poem I listened to yesterday on Pádraig Ó Tuama's "Poetry Unbound" podcast: https://onbeing.org/programs/conor-kerr-winter-songs/.
A fine poem by an Alberta writer; and an insightful presenter on a lovely Poetry podcast, Professor. How very lucky to be in this space … where interconnected pathways to discovery seem to gently come into view, one after another. Ruminating - and marvelling - on that, while a fine snow falls here. ☕️ Thank you (seems feeble - but stands) for now.
🕊️
Thank you Tina. That really spoke to this time.
Beautiful piece of writing - thank you Tina. I find myself longing for the O antiphons and they never disappoint 😍❤️