Cimitero Monumentale di Staglieno
A chance encounter or a tip off,
I can’t remember which,
this sultry September afternoon
finds me wandering a Genoese hillside
among the stones at Staglieno.
All’s quiet in reverence, a respite
from the city’s swarm of buzzing Vespas;
only the whine of an odd mosquito
dares disturb the silence of the dead.
Awed by skill unmatched, unseen before,
stone hewn by deft and expert hands;
al fresco marble fugitives from sterile museum halls
stand guard by tombs, bearing witness to tears and loss.
The breeze invites the sun to dance,
dappled sunlight flickers the stones into life;
light and dark from lichen and black crust,
the elements both invigorate and threaten
to eat away neglected memories.
Their stories unfold, one calls out
among the galleries of the bourgeoisie,
a proletariat trespasser, a peasant peanut seller
Caterina Campodonico, disguised in fine silk and lace,
face and hands betraying the wear of hard labour;
her family’s avarice eaves-dropped,
grasping hands plan to carve up her bequest;
she commissions her likeness to the finest sculptor,
her epitaph to a poet and takes her legacy to the grave.
A rock in life, the stone stands in death’s solid tribute
to her spirit, indomitable to the end,
now impervious to gossip and innuendo,
wagging tongues and pointing fingers.
A serene and regal palpable presence
moves me to reach out to touch the statue;
I fulfil her last request,
“Oh, you who pass close to this, my tomb,
If you will, pray for my peace.”
I thought this was terrific when we heard it at the workshop. Well done
An interesting tale well told. Talking of strong women, a favourite (and well known) image:
"Migrant Mother" by Dorothea Lange is worth googling if you've not come across it.
Cover her eyes
and you will find a weary mother of three,
hair lank and lousy,
baby listless, blind at her pinched breast;
a hundredweight of care on either arm
and nothing more
or less.
But take away your finger
and that cloud, so dark,
of hunger and despair
is pierced by a fierce ray,
stronger than these,
of fire or ice or something
unbreakable and fair -
that there’s no word for.
As we said at the workshop, a very impressive piece!