Madonna Dei Sassi, Ranzo

Madonna Dei Sassi (Our Lady of the Rocks)

The sky is blue
Up here

Above the grass
That crests
And then flows over, down into the Abyss.

The Old Man of the Mountains
His white hair and beard flowing
In the herb scented breeze

Strides uphill as if he were a youth still.

It is the Energy of Passion
That mocks Age and Time.

He knows the fruits of the forests
Like the back of his old hands
Watching the bees in their sacred work ...

And he knows where the bear sleeps 
Still
In the warmth of the Earth.

Wild mushrooms grow in secret places
Returning
Every year
Reassuring him …

He still has Time ...

Time ago though it was not grass
That flowed over the Abyss

But rocks ... tumbling down ...

It was a Miracle, the procession on the path below unhurt.

His old hands have chipped rock away
Urged on …

By this Memory ...

Until the rock revealed its Secret within.