Old Market Square

 Words and Pictures by Kenneth J. Sliviak

The Old Market Square, Rouen.

"Rouen, Rouen, shalt thou be my dwelling?"

Jeanne D'Arc 30 May, 1431

A simple trip I wished to make, so a train to Normandy I did take. The city Rouen I wished to see, and of course a girl whose name is Jeanne.

As I walked the streets and smelled the air, I stumbled upon a simple square. Centuries old, with buildings new, a visit here I had to do.

My visit here if you wonder why, was written on a simple sign, but not just any sign.

This is the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

This pile of stone was the pillory where officials gathered in treachery to watch poor Jeanne in her misery; it is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

Like a giant arm reaching high the cross it looms into the sky. Standing tall for all to see the place of Jeanne's great agony; it looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

The old church ruins are scattered around a victim of the angry crowd, yet from this church a cross was took upon which Jeanne desired to look. These ruins lay somber, quiet and meek across the path, but next to the cross that looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

A leviathan church before me now with eye like windows and shingle scales. Raging fountains are a sight with stained glass windows shining bright. Inside the church a statue stands, encased in flames, yet folded hands.

Did she look like that St. Jeanne D'Arc as tiny candles enlighten the dark? The church is silent yet witness to all next to the ruins, but facing the cross that looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

This is the memorial the French did build to Jeanne D'Arc their savior still, across from the church that is next to the ruins, but facing the cross that looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

This is the museum with its ancient crypt, where figures of wax her life depict. In the crypt artifacts are found while the wooden floors I twice walked round. It is across from the memorial that is across from the church that is next to the ruins, but facing the cross that looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

This is the road Rue Jeanne D'Arc that begins at the station and ends at the bridge. Through the center of town is where it runs, past the museum that is across from the memorial that is across from the church that is next to the ruins, but facing the cross that looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

These are the stores that all bear her name, but are they just trying to live off her fame? They line the street in the center of town that runs past the museum that is across from the memorial that is across from the church that is next to the ruins, but facing the cross that looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake that stood in the square where Jeanne was burnt.

This is the bridge Point Jeanne D'Arc that spans the river Seine, and here at last my trip will end. This is the bridge where they took her ashes and heart so pure that it wouldn't burn. This is where they threw her remains in the river below to ensure no relics for us to behold. Down this road in a cart they took her away in 1431, 30^th of May, when folks still gather for her to pray. They took her there all dressed in white to that square still such a horrid sight with its museum across from the memorial across from the church which is next to the ruins, but facing the cross that looms over the pillory that is next to the sign that marks the stake where she was tied. When the flames were lit she began to cry and when they grew higher they knew she would die. It happened here; I was standing there, cause this is the square, that horrible square. You English dogs I hate you all! Yes this is the square where Jeanne D'Arc died.

Rouen, Rouen, thou art her dwelling, but so is my heart for I can never forget her, Jeanne D'Arc.

The author, Kenneth J. Sliviak, and Jeanne D'Arc.

Jardin des Toileries, Paris, France.

19, January, 2001