Mater Ecclesiae Abbey, on St.Giulio Island
A black jackdaw nests twigs
in that hole between stones
built as life and upright pinnacle
between world’s history and the eternal
Sober sisters are peace, joy and calm;
women, nuns and sweet hope
showing that life is possible, nice.
They’re the same holy spirit and song
Jackdaw is black and black is too the cape
of these so many mothers, that are
built as life and upright pinnacles
into history, yet in the eternal
St.Giulio Island, April, 7th 2019
Thorns again dress in white
in the evening, spreading sweetness
and life’s hope from nectar glands.
Winter stasis is over
Thorns dress sadness and white
in this evening of a dying world.
Life is smoke now, without
barycenter in which there’s hope
Thorns are naked and white
in the evening, wasting sweetness
given to dark coming soon.
I’m like question in a desert
March, 14th 2019
I hope I’ll tomorrow can share here a photo of mines!
I Just did it, and today is March, 31st 2019. Lol.
Any elm dresses lie that’s fake leaves
under an early sun that warms up
changes which we still can’t understand
in their whole and enormous huge power
Lent is only like a vague trouble,
inconvenience to me, as a room
desolate in which I look for door.
I need You if I escape from You
March, 28th 2019
Photo by JB, 2014
Here we are again: a year more
fell due silently amid empty memories
that don’t give substance to this my present.
What is left of all travelled time?
Plum trees and buds wake up again, now
while I see new green in fields and woods.
Dry and dusty ground supports my steps
I think Easter is a far mirage
March, 17th 2019
Pleiades (the Seven Sisters): picture found here
I no more know the Orion stars nor
lights of Tauros nor the Seven Sisters
that kidnapped my soul there, up, higher
while a deep shiver shook my young body
Sometimes they were so fearful, like giants
showing eternal and distant beauty
made red passion or colder blue light
the same colour of frozen hearts, ice
Then someone told me stars history
and how, there, heavy substance was born
to build us and to bind us to Earth,
as poor things yet astonished consciences
Now I walk and my eyes watch at tarmac
where I go, at the stench of the ugly
things we do and I do, without I
could jump like can do innocent child
All is done by the One who governs
it toward our rescue, that I shift,
treason of both the science and love.
Thus I substitute life while I sleep
January, 30th 2019
JB, that evening
I look at you so far from this loggia
while lights and colours turn on from windows
beyond the well of night that’s that lake.
A nightfall grips by fear now my world
You are there, in your houses, as usual
common business, and duties and laughs;
someone now prepares dinner or goes back
from his work and he’s welcome again
Yet now there are so powerful shadows
spread all over the world to bring terror
dark like black breath of worse ancient demons.
Make me one of your servants, God, Lord
January, 28th 2019
JB, that night
I see us on that sofa, it’s night
we’ve a rest looking at our future
that awaits us and is full of sense.
Next September we’ll get married, so
You are on that sofa: it’s a moment
overlaid both to time and to space:
your background is the same yet it’s different.
Next September you’ll get married, so
Our link was young but sure and certain,
more than only beginning, prelude,
it was real and eternal fact
we so thought and so lived our love
So you are today, you, my son and
her, that’s new but real part of the whole
which we live and not only unclear hope.
God can hold your hand. You go on!
Bernina Hospice, February, 16th 2019