Anyway

Pic from here

Anyway
If I think I am right
if I see black as white
If my night is a sigh
and I find not my site

Anyway
If I do not agree
and think that I could be
better me fully free
even if I am a flea

Anyway
when my life almost gone
lies like a bored swan
with no strength, without brawn
without joy and withdrawn

Anyway Easter comes
when You rise again. Does
anyone blind the shine
of the least single sun?

Anyway
You don’t need any pass
to save me from myself.
Let I be not impasse
to my way out, besides

Friday, 14 April 2017

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Copts

 

The new

 

From the sixth hour until the ninth hour darkness came over all the land. About the ninth hour, Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?”

(Matthew, 27: 45-46)

 


The word “Copt” is indirectly derived from the Greek Αἰγύπτιος Aigýptios meaning simply “Egyptian” (from Wikipedia).
How many times I go to the Sunday mess only because I always do so? Only because I must do so?
How many times the mess is boring to me?
The same mess, in the same day, for other Christians is an important and precise choice.
The same mess, in the same day, for other Christians can be pain and martyrdom.
And death.
As the first mess was.
As the mess of Christ himself was.
… and I go there without thinking.
Or, better: and I go there thinking to some most important matter!
…and I go there and the mess often annoys me.
Well.
I think that if I’ll go to the Hell, it will be so not for an excess of life, but for my omissions.
Not for my luxury, but for my accidie.
Yes: for my sloth.
Now I pray for all you, dear sisters and brothers.
Now I ask also to all you, sisters, brothers: “Forgive me, please!

The death of God and the beauty

 

Up: one of the music of yesterday ceremony, here by one of my favourite ensable…

 

Last night I went to a church where there was a Via Crucis sung by a chorus in which I have some friends.

It was beautiful and touching; each station of the Cross was marked by a chant a cappella: before and after only silence. I listened to several treasures of the millenary cristian tradition: from medieval songs to Allegri, Mozart, Rachmaninov, Bardos.

All that beauty surprised and moved me deeply, above all because it was all about pain and death and not only human pain and death: God died. How much beauty the man was able to build in the arts about such a tragedy!

So, I thought that it is not only the blue of the sky, the colours of the springs, the lips of my love or the joy for the life to show me God, but also the darkness, the pain. The death.

If the man, this very poor being, has the power to make beauty from the death… what’s the power of God?