Friday, January 9, 2009

OUR LADY - SKYSCRAPER IN THE NIGHT

Our Lady like a hundred-story building
standing all alone alight, amid a deep dark night,
rises, terraced strong on steel, and towers tall
high-shaped and sheer to stop the pilgrim and enthrall,
with each ascending floor a pyramiding row
of golden-squares - taller yet than all - of light.
Down by her feet fair fountains mirror-play their waters
in her polished stone, while at her utmost height
great spotlights print her crown in a dazzling white.

A skyscraper Mary is, and wears her hundred-stories tall
like one long mist-like golden gown of light;
A Queen She is, glorious-tall, majestic in the night.

Albert Joseph Hebert, S.M.
Mary, Our Blessed Lady. New York: Exposition Press, 1970.

where have all the cowboys gone?

Throughout the past week I am alarmed at my own alarm resulting from the lack of regular access to the internet. I am fearful that I have forgotten how to be human and that it takes an awkward, slightly embarrassing amount of effort to do something native to the human condition. Like getting on a bike and riding it downtown; taking a walk alone in unknown territory; taking in a baseball game. Anything that is natural now takes an unnatural amount of planning while that which is not natural to the human condition (i.e. sitting and moving only one’s fingers for hours on end) is a reality for most.

I keep veering away from thinking too much about this because it makes me terribly nostalgic. No wonder I am content in complete immersion into the world of literature and fiction. Musty old books are breathing more than we; their pages leap with life while ours continue down the blandest route humanity has ever known, although, don’t worry, we do so oh-so-efficiently and at unforeseen speeds. Well, I always thought that if my death were to be quick it would be painless, but it is not so.
Pardon me while I answer a text message about nothing. At least it’s instant.