Much of the world’s attention this week is on Rome; this is one of the few poems I know that refers specifically to St. Peter’s Basilica. Tim Kelleher and I had similar experiences there; my one visit to the Vatican came in October, 2000 — it was remarkable and difficult to put into words. I wish I had been there at midnight, as he was.
St. Peter’s Square
The great bell tolls midnight
stirring echoes: emperors,
martyrs, prophets in chains.
Above Rome’s Seven Hills
life and death still wrestle
in a match already won.
The last toll rolls like a tide
through Bernini’s columns,
over the ramparts, and disappears.
And for just an instant I am
at the center of all my selves,
before I set out head-bowed,
stone by stone across the piazza
with no one in the world to tell.
I like "life and death still wrestle/ in a match already won…"
Hugo,
This poem just connected me to the Vatican in a very personal and concrete way. It brought tears to my eyes and chills up my spine.__ I’ve been to Rome many times, most recently with my kids a few summers past. It’s one of those places that stay with you, you never forget Bernini’s sculptures or The Sistine Chapel. But I will never forget my brief, but memorable encounters with John Paul II in Rome. __ I was walking down the Via Venetto and there he was, in his limo, waiting at the light. I looked in his direction, our eyes met, and he took his hand and gave me his blessing. I was in disbelief, all I could do was smile! This was many years ago, I honestly can’t remember the year. After that occassion I always saw him when I visited Rome. Sometimes it would be in St.Peters, he would come out on his balcony at the exact time that our group was touring… I like to think that my encounters with him were a special gift, a blessing. It always made me realize how fortunate I was, how wonderful to be alive, how blessed I was in every way.