La
Sagrada Familia
(Barcelona,
Spain)
The
old man
a gray, dark grandfather
looking silently
from the park bench.
Black
beret
hands folded in his lap
day after day
in the same spot
sitting in the shadow
of the rising cathedral.
Stone
by stone
for seventy-five years
the cathedral rose
not gothic and stern
but human, natural.
The
towers
where earth strives
for heaven
wind like growing vines,
an earthy home
where animals
and creatures
of all species
have replaced
the frowning saints.
This
man,
this cathedral,
unfinished,
bridge the centuries.
The Sacred Family
a place of worship
of holy nature.
It
is the image
central to his life
the one event,
incomplete,
that framed his existence
since the day he swept
the atelier
of the stone cutters
at age seven.
As
a youthful apprentice
cutting stone for a daily
piece of bread,
working on the foundation
never imagining the towers
never seeing the plan.
Stone
by stone
day by day
workers born
and died
never worshiping
in the cathedral.
This
gray man
too old now
to lift a hammer and a chisel
watches from his bench
in the park
across the street
alone.
This
unfinished temple of nature
which was his life experience
never seeing its meaning
only seeing the square and level
of the individual block he carved
obeying the directives
of the master
for a little bread and wine
each day.
©
2001 Richard Sidy
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