~ The Visitation ~

 

There is a place, not far from here,

Where oak trees grow on a quiet hill

Just off a road, near rails of steel,

Behind the Lutheran university

A standing stone, they erected there

To honor the founders, and their righteous fear

 

Of their most Christian God.

 

Beneath the green-cast plaque of bronze

A mark was set upon the stone

It, too, is dimmed with passing years,

And by scrubbing hand, with thought to clear

Its message from the searching eye

Of any, who might wander by,

While walking upon some different path

And in seeing, perhaps incur the wrath

 

Of the reigning god of staid and straight Tradition.

 

One late summer's Sunday afternoon

There came a pilgrim, to the stone

Who read the plaque, and saw the sign,

And thought how both would fade, with time

Then stood a while, beneath the trees,

Where boughs whispered with each passing breeze,

And placed a hand upon an oak

(For to the God of this, he spoke)

 

And closed his eyes and asked his silent question:

"Are You here?"

 

As he stood there, near the stone

Within the oak grove, quite alone,

There came the faintest hint of sound

As an acorn fell upon the ground

You think, perhaps, a trumpet would

More likely herald the God of Wood?

Or choirs of angels rend the sky,

And radiant splendors blind the eye?

 

I tell you, it is a more subtle thing than that.

 

From across the grove, through rays of sun

A swallow-tailed butterfly did come

Wings beating slowly, with gentle grace,

It flew up to the pilgrim's face

Then thrice around him, in beams of sun,

And then away, toward standing stone

Thus was the pilgrim's answer heard,

Though spoken without a single word

 

"Open your eyes, and open your heart to love . . .

I am always here!"

 

 

G. S. Hargrave, September 5, 1999

 

 

Note: I would not wish my references above to the Lutheran or Christian traditions to be an any way misinterpreted, and thought to imply even the least degree of disrespect. They pertain specifically to the wording that appears on the bronze plaque affixed to the standing stone, which was erected during the 1920s. I must confess to a certain sense of irony concerning the symbolism of the stone and its placement in an oak grove, however, and can only wonder if this was in any way intentional.

Whatever the intention might have been, I recognize a sacred space when I see one, and extend my thanks to those who created and who maintain it. When all is said and done, all who follow a sacred path in a spirit of good will are my brothers and sisters, whatever path they travel. Let there always be peace between us!

 

 

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© 1999 Gregory S Hargrave (Yopo)

 

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