I wept with the world at the tragedy that happened to Notre Dame on Monday. I had been thinking and thinking about what poem I might post for today, and I wondered if there were any poems written to that magnificent cathedral.
There are!
I considered this poem on Monday night. But, the loss of the stained glass – especially that glorious rose window – made Kerrie O’Brien’s words almost painful to read.
Then I considered Edmund Kemper Broadus poem about a gargoyle. But, the fate of those gargoyles is yet uncertain.
Finally, I stumbled across this poem, written on Monday by Mary Angela Douglas and I knew that this is the poem I will carry with me today:
Beauty Itself Is Burning Down
by Mary Angela Douglas
beauty itself is burning down
a newsman cried
with Notre Dame lit like a torch
against the sunset sky
what can we say
from faraway
will the rose windows melt inside
I wondered, can it be so many saints have died
and now their images too their agonies renewed
for another contract, lease
is the name for Paris, rue,
not rosemary, please forget me
what I knew of thought I knew of
Hugo, I thought ramdomly
cathedrals burning in a green April
april, the cruelest
does the world skip a beat in an afternoon
of eight centuries
the world within the world
we never see
not being visionary
the cathedral erupting into great roses
in a penultimate Spring
the cathedral a great green candle
consumed for the Lord
as if by example, we should be shorn
of our somnambulance
in the lily of this hour
with the traffic no longer surging, transfixed
in the rose of its crumbling
singing, singing singing
the bell into the tower
the tower withstanding
the bell in the tower
the bell in the tower
beyond all wars and scars
the little mockeries in peace time
and yet, crowds grew
and thronged the singeing avenues
willing the walls to stay
for hours and hours
the spire of Notre Dame
our lady’s arrow-sorrow
lit in a golden flame, flickered, floated sideways
what next? The flaking, flinging down of stars. the moon falls into the earth, a mirror no longer
ashes for beauty?
time itself collapsed in a deep black hole
remnants of a single spring twilight
our souls in the rubble still singing.
will not cease, will not leave it this way
on this, no calendar’s day.
Lovely. Soulful. Provocative. Evocative.
Merci.
beautiful Kat – thank you! (and here’s another to add to your collection https://www.unfoldinglight.net/reflections/hreceprjajhkxrc7mftyzsmgbtcsyc )
Poetry often expresses things better than prose can, and this is a fine example. Notre Dame is indeed “Beyond all wars and scars”.
Perfect!
So sad, but so good.
“. . . ashes for beauty?”
Aye, there is the rub.
Did you read that the Rose Windows are going to be OK? That was good news to me!
Thank-you Kat.
What a beautiful poem and such a fitting tribute, Kat. Thanks so much for sharing it today! XO
Beautiful! Thanks so much for sharing.
A beautiful poem that reflects the sad day.
What a sadly beautiful poem. Thanks Kat. I am glad the rose window is probably going to be ok. Also the organ although damage to the pipework is yet to be determined.
A beautiful tribute to Notre Dame.