Fresco

There are two small Episcopal Chapels
in the mountains that we visited on our
honetmoon. In the early 70's, frescos were painted
on the walls, and form a special tribute
to faith and art and patience.

I do not know they are not better known,
though you may have seen pictures.

Naturally, I wrote a poem or two
about the experience.

faucon.

....................................................

FRESCO

When you might think that all is doom and done,
lost to greed and perverted use of faith;
when even sciptured attocities of old
pale in comparison with the nightly news --
then take a trip with me to artistry.

Forget your search for God in caves of steel
and words of wisdom in electron spin,
where rigid minds prey on plastic souls
taught that average is good and bland sublime,
and rightious bigotry but a duty.

Peer instead into an abandoned church
deep in the mountains of Carolina;
crafted of simple chestnut planks and shale,
yet nurturing art and passion profound
in the Frescos of Appalachia.

More than a marriage of paint and plaster,
more than a bold artist’s gifted vision --
find instead a wall of mirrored wonder
of mem’ries and spirit and creation
of basic messages of Christiandom.

A pregnant Mary ‘neith a phophet moon --
a savage Baptist stripped of all but love --
a supper scene of people more than twelve,
and Christ crossed in death and life the same
while everyman watches from churning clouds.

This art was crafted on plaster still damp --
endless work on a eternal dreams,
where dialogue was by right suspended,
and teaching was complete or not at all,
and I find Christ again in the heart of man.