Something soft, as grey mist
spreads across this small world
not like that red death mask
nor as black terror plague
sweetly it kills us now
I need eyes to watch in
I need hands to hold tight
I need friends to be close
I need love to be me
Something like a white pain
rides together with this
new weird virus and makes
mankind dull, forcing us
I need facts truly true
to be alive, to be far
from death innate in dreams
to be out
from that white without shape
Someone says that a man
resurrected by death
and He lives in his Church.
I decide to trust them
I need Christ who saves me
I need Him to change me
I need Him, to be me
those clear eyes
I met Him
With those hands
He bears me
in those friends
April, 17th 2021
Some of our Easter eggs.
Another so strange and silent Easter.
Yet He saved us. He saves us now.
I wish you the best possible Easter!
April, 3rd 2021
They, here, today, a few minutes ago
It’s here spring again, It’s here spring now
all my garden declares clearly that
with wild wide-awake flowers and bright
new green grass and a blackbird that skips
Also a plum tree had waked up early
and now sprouts it’s so many white buds.
Violets are a lot and they melt
themselves into fragrance in the breeze
It’s here spring again, it is now spring
wide awake flowers, farmed or wild
in my garden declare clearly that
and they’re violets, primroses,
Lent is running fast toward your Easter
it’s another strange one, without laughs,
among silenced roads, sirens, and
infinite vanity of the whole
It’s now spring again, anyway life
breaks as well nature stasis and mine.
Like a tulip I wait for a burst
of red petals: it’s your Easter, come!
March, 13th 2021
Like every year, our Easter eggs.
Such a strange Easter, this one, but Easter, anyway.
Because whatever happens, our victory is already here.
On condition that we don’t think to be alone and to win alone, and that we entrust ourselves to His people, to the people He has saved. To the Church.
Happy, holy, Easter to all you.
April, 12nd 2020
This beautiful photo and some words by Catherine made me write this stuff
As cold raindrops
from sky to a puddle
we all run down so fast
while our sun is pale ghost
as in winter, and cries.
It’s a shadow of what it should be,
only a sign of what it could… must be
Like cold raindrop
my soul stands thin, frail,
in this world puzzled, mad,
only a shadow of what it should be
only a memo of what I could be
I’m cold raindrop
that pours weak and dull
over strong lava rock
old and black.
That’s how world treats now me,
without take care of none.
I can’t scratch its surface.
Each cold raindrop
falls from sky to ground
I’m thus too when I trust
in my hands or my mind,
while heart dries up soon, fast.
Friday, now, my Christ dies.
There’s no raindrop
that falls without value.
Each thing goes towards place
God gave it before Time.
Three days after this pain,
after Petrus went out
and wept bitterly…
Three days after that rooster,
sun will bright again, more
Easter comes, anyway.
Easter comes, despite me.
April, 10th 2020
Judy in a dreaming wood spring, sl, today
Beyond hedge is a garden and further
things I already know and don’t know.
World is changing out there, far away
and we’re caged, a long way from Time
That hedge forces my view here but I
know a lot about shadows of woods,
about hidden things, like two-leaf squill
and wind flowers, pure white just now there
Beyond hedge which is edge to my place
there’s a garden and farther some woods
that I don’t see yet I see and know
how they are when awake from their sleep
A hedge is border to all my world
but there is further gardens and woods
and beyond, towards east and its dawn
where sun rises there is Easter light
April, 4th 2020
Dead saint stones. They were strong,
full of fervour and passionate faith,
now they stand again orderly and giant
witnesses of Church that lived before
Sleeping saint stones, now are as pale hearts
with no sense and distorted, reduced
simply to business chance or to a cue
for romantic dreams of old past artist
We are poor bad stones nightly when this
so rapacious world comes and grabs us
to confuse our mind turning it
into hip depraved conformism
We were Easter light stones in the past,
but as that rock stones we were sold to
the World Prince. Make us life again, Lord
that guide our way and the history
Abbaye de Fontfroide,
April, 23rd 2019
You can find here more informations about this holiday.
As usual, our Easter eggs. Today we painted them and tomorrow … we’ll eat them.
Anyway, whatever I am, whatever we are, whatever this world is
Jesus Christus resurrected!
Yes He really resurrected!
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
Photo by JB, 2018
I was twenty, oh God! Is it possible?
And I ran light across the Alps mountains
yet today a stone challenges my pride
and my feet and my mind shudder both
In the air Helichrysum and my
memories mix with rue that I sense
without see. I seek you there, below
I call you and I’m back: you are my wish
On the hill, in the scrub that wraps up
this limestone rock I go chasing times
by now lost, far away, looking for
resting boys at sunset, singing happy
Cobblestone white and flat make a path
as wide as the life history of saints
who went through this Désert.
At the end of the world we revive
Château du Verdun, April, 4th 2018
 Above all St. Guilhem (William), grandson of Charles Martel, famous Christian knight and cousin of the emperor Charlemagne. He is the hero of the Chanson de Guillaume.
 The Château du Verdun, or Giant Castle, is located near Saint-Guilhem-le-Désert.
 The very impressive Cirque de l’Infernet, known as located “au bout du monde“.