Notre Dame Burning – by Scott Eagan
She is a vast symphony in stone – Victor Hugo
NOTRE
– DAME BURNING
– Holy Week Tuesday
– Allegro con brio –
– Allegro con brio –
Somewhere within
the ‘forest’
the ‘forest’
in the wooden heart of that complex
community
community
of primal oak beams, interweaving rafters,
a renovating spark spawned a flame – and
hungry to destroy
hungry to destroy
tongues and tails of demons licked the
branches
branches
until the forest was burning with a
violent, evil blaze
violent, evil blaze
spreading is wiles throughout the woods
toppling the mighty spire – its tall head
high above the canopy
high above the canopy
while the gargoyles, stone faced, grimaced
unwaveringly.
unwaveringly.
In the bosom of the Île de la Cité, having
survived Reformation and Revolution
survived Reformation and Revolution
and modern unbelief, standing steadfast,
the citizens
the citizens
rushed to the rescue – water, prayer, hymns
– and a human chain
– and a human chain
of saving hands in that crucible of Gothic
alchemy.
alchemy.
A whirlwind of crackling notes, a
cacophony of roaring incense.
cacophony of roaring incense.
– Holy Saturday
– Allegreto –
– Allegreto –
Within the ashes
of wreckage
of wreckage
smoke stained walls and buried pews
ravaged roof, damaged stained glass
windows,
windows,
the teary cry of a city, of the world – and
a smokey silence
a smokey silence
tomb-like, not even the curious tourist’s
chatter,
chatter,
poor stilled heart wounded in a Passion of
fire and water.
fire and water.
Scarred body wrapped in a shroud of love
awaiting the touch of God and man, encased
in stone
in stone
the crown of thorns removed in the age old battle
against beauty
against beauty
she is laid to rest, the poignant price of
neglect.
neglect.
Music, paused in a chiseled silence, holds
a hidden note –
a hidden note –
hope remains in the place of Golgatha.
– Easter Sunday – Allegro
con spiritu –
con spiritu –
Still standing, the luminous
cross
cross
surmounting a pietá. Mother and Son
a midst
a midst
twisted and blackened pipes, timbers – the
forest fallen in ruin
forest fallen in ruin
a tomb with a stone rolled across the
sanctuary.
sanctuary.
Yet, a strange beat begins in resurrection
with the centuries of faith, of
craftsmanship and artistry
craftsmanship and artistry
a response to the Conductor’s baton,
phoenix-like the promise
phoenix-like the promise
rising again from death, the notes in
recapitulation of its creation.
recapitulation of its creation.
A heart burning in the cinders of Notre
Dame de Paris –
Dame de Paris –
the forest will grow back, the
music will return
and with it, the strength to begin
again.
again.
Scott Eagan April 23, 2019
Wonderful poem, thanks very much for sharing it.