A member of our congregation, Christine Taylor was moved after the tragic events of Notre Dame, she composed this beautiful poem below .
I take a walk, in a familiar area.
I know the streets, the shops, the memories on every corner.
The overwhelming feeling of … wrong… is new.
The sun should not be shining. Grey skies should replace the blue.
From here I see fresh green leaves, cherry blossom,
birds flying and perching on the fire scorched stone, oblivious to the weight of our stares.
Pollen blows in the wind like ash.
The walls are standing, the statues watching, the remaining scaffolding is only warped.
(How is that right?
850 years destroyed in a few hours and yet the scaffolding erected last week is barely touched!)
It`s hard to see what is no longer there.
But so much has been lost: History, workmanship, art, beauty;
the palpable connection to ages past that we felt walking those hallowed walls.
Now returned to dust, returned to the sky.
Hope remains. Faith remains. Her heart remains.
She is standing. She burned, she suffered while we watched and yet she stands.
Our Mother suffered like that. Our Mother watched, powerless as her Son died.
And she got to her feet and stood after all that.
2000 years later it is our turn to watch, powerless.
It`s our turn to get back on our feet.
Our turn to show our strength.
Hope. Regrowth. Rebirth.
The pervue of spring.
April 2019 Christine Taylor