The Ten Angels
One from my travelogue
Have you crossed the Ponte Sant’Angelo?
In the shadow of the Castle.
And seen the driftwood gather neath the arches of the bridge.
Have you walked beneath the Angels?
Carved in marble by Bernini.
Have you pondered what they carry, standing quietly on the ledge?
You can see the hobnailed footprints
Of the marching Roman Legions.
You can trace the path of pilgrims; almost hear their tears of joy.
You can marvel at man’s tributes
to the one Eternal City.
All the artifice and artistry the Church could once employ.
But these Angels tell a story,
In the instruments they carry.
In their sculpted curves and beauty it’s Christ’s Passion that is shown.
One holds out the dice and garments;
One displays the crown of thorns;
Here the cross, and there the pillar, yet another holds the Throne.
When the sun descends the heavens;
And a hush lies on the Tiber.
And the Zephyrs blur the mirror of the waters neath the span.
With the great dome of St Peter’s
standing black against the skyline
You’ll shed tears in quiet oblation to the mystery of Man.