03 Jun What is it with churches and poetry?
Hi friends, can I start off by saying I miss all of you very much. Friends and family back home keep asking me about Italy and all I can say is that I left my heart there. I am finally getting back to a normal schedule here at the rock, including another summer class…elementary statistics – kill me now please. But anyways, back in Florence when we visited the Medici Chapelle I found myself sitting and writing long after everyone else had left. I don’t know what it is with churches or chapels but I seemed to have rediscovered my voice. So, if you care to read another attempt at poetry please feel free to continue reading.
In the 1500’s a boy was born. His name is Michelangelo.
I say his name “is” instead of “was” because even though he
does not walk among us anymore, he lives through the work he left behind.
There’s a legend of a king named Midas who was said
that everything he touchesĀ turns to gold.
Michelangelo turned marble into man
canvas into stories, and doubters into believers.
The world we live in is a hard place
there is pain in every person’s heart, even mine.
I relieve memories like nightmares even the daytime can’t erase.
Michelangelo had nightmares too.
He lost his mother and took a chance on another family – the Medici.
Now, I’m not very familiar with the Medici family history, but
I know one thing from what Michelangelo left behind.
He loved them.
I guess in the end it didn’t matter what the Medici family did or who they are
I wouldn’t believe what they stories had to say anyways.
Because I’m sitting in this beautiful chapel feeling tears rolling down my cheek
due to a love story told through art.
How much do you have to do to deserve someone’s love great enough
to build them a remembrance?
I can feel an aching in my heart because I didn’t know this kind of beauty could exist.
I didn’t know a love this strong could exist.
I didn’t know.
And maybe I’ll never know – maybe that’s okay.
Maybe we aren’t supposed to understand what love is to someone else.
I guarantee that if you asked two people what is love
they would give you two different answers.
And if you asked twelve people
they would give you even more different answers
Same with one thousand or six billion.
I don’t think love is supposed to be limited by words.
I think that maybe love should be felt in a way that words do not define it.
Thank you everyone who made Italy the best two weeks of my life. I’ll never forget you or the places I’ve seen.
