Along the old road
I've heard so much all my life about "the Roman Road"--shoot, it's even the name for a particular "witnessing tool" (a "well-engineered path to salvation") to use when talking to people and trying to get them "saved". Hadn't thought of that in years, but it's a very deep part of every Baptist preacher's daughter's history.
But TODAY, all of that was left behind! I was going to visit a part of the REAL Roman Road, the one made of stone and dirt and the sweat of slaves - another part of history where men of wealth and stature subvert "the other" for the sake of progress, or in order to "civilize" the world, a part of history that so many of us would rather not see, but it's always there, nevertheless. It found it's way into at least one of the poems written today.
Carsulae is a working archeological site that's still being excavated. There's already so much that's been uncovered, but so much still left to explore. We made our way from the bus parking area into the ticket center and a small museum, then off we went down the road to see what we could see.
Walking from the bus to the site - didn't see any ruins!
The road from the information center to the excavation sites.
To the left is the church where we met after writing to share.
The chariot ruts in the ground
The archway into the ancient city.
This really felt like a pilgrimage - putting your feet on ancient paths.
I can't even imagine how they built these massive arches.
A large family crypt.
Richard took us to a special part of the grounds, the grave site of a young girl - only 10 years old when she died. We sat near a mausoleum, just a short step or two from the sarcophagus of the young girl. Richard shared poetry and thoughts with us...
Sitting in the shade of an old family crypt.
Richard tells us of the crew discovering a sarcophogus
containing the remains of a girl about 10 years old.
Thinking about real people with real lives,
their joys and sorrows, gains and losses.
then he sent us off in small groups to share our own thoughts.
Sarah, Cathie, Somae and I head over to the sarcophogas of the young girl.
It once held the dearest treasure...
This is a short line from one of the poems Richard read us that caught my eye this morning:
"What's poetry?"
It is the fuits and vegetables
and marketplace at Campo dei Fiori.*
*from What He Thought by Heather McHugh
"What is poetry?"
Ancient trees and their soft compost.
Their fragrance speaks of life, death, rebirth.
Stone sarcofagus of a young girl lies
a short distance away.
Ruins of a great road one traveled.
"Journey".
After we came back together, Richard sent us off to see what we could see and to write a poem. I wish I had written better notes on all the handouts Richard gave us. I vaguely remember a poem he read us of seeing something large, then taking note of something very small that spoke in the language of a poem. Mostly I remember because as I looked around while I walked, I consciously looked for something small...
Thinking about Mary Magdelene and Mary, Jesus's mother,
maybe Dorcas, Eunice or Phoebe .
I wonder if any of them ever walked on this road -
or what other famous women of history may have.
An overly ripe pear, found under a tree...but I ate it anyway.
My small hidden treasure.
and I had my poem when I found it.The Roman Road e il Piccolo Fiore*
Whether you turn to the right or to the left,
your ears will hear a voice behind you saying,
“This is the way; walk in it.”
Isaiah 30:21
Great blocks of stone cut, fitted, and laid together
The road: wide, solid and well-planned
to make the way easy for travelers yet to come.
Walk.
Small, tufted, yellow heads of saxifrages,
floating on slender red-green stems.
At their base, tiny succulent feet
grab hold of the ancient stone,
telling their own story.
telling their own story.
Hold steady. Stay.
Listen.
You will hear a voice in your ear saying:
“This is the way. Walk in it.”
Trust the walking.
Trust the holding steady.
After we wrote our poems, we were free to stroll among the ruins, then gathered back at the church near the entrance to share our poems.
Richard and Somae make their way back to the church.
Sarah
Inside the church
1 comment:
Lovely. Thanks for sharing.
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