I visited Notre Dame in the Spring of 1992. The interior looked dark at the time, as few candles burned and fewer lights shined. The light from the Rose stainglass captivated me, as it had done for countless pilgrams through out the centuries. Otherwise, my visit felt pedestrian.

I stare today at the video feeds and photographs of the Cathedral in flames. I feel numb, disbelieving my own eyes, and wondering how such a more-than-eight-hundred-year-old monument to God’s Glory could succumb to mere fire.

Collapsing spire

the choral tones of hymns

bystanders sing

It’s too painful to let in. And yet, within this silenced grief, does not Our Lady herself have a word of consolation?

Let your tears come. Soon will come a time when every tear will be dried. Mourn the loss of what your hold dear. Soon you will see with your own eyes the one for whom you held it so dear. The stones and timber that burn and fall remind us only that in His Name, the stones and timber we become will never fall forever. As the Cathedral of Notre Dame will rise again, so will we.

ascending flames

a burning roof’s lost pitch

as towers stand

for RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #249 Pitch&Tone

#NaPoWriMo2019 / #GloPoWriMo2019 15/30

WD April PAD 2019 15/30