Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

  • Home
    Home This is where you can find all the blog posts throughout the site.
  • Tags
    Tags Displays a list of tags that have been used in the blog.
  • Bloggers
    Bloggers Search for your favorite blogger from this site.
  • Login
    Login Login form

Lament for a Cathedral

The Lady of Paris has fallen.

Half a world away, I sit on the ground, and weep for beauty broken.

Lady of Paris, ochone.

For what I have never seen, I raise now a lament.

Lady of Paris, ochone.

I raise a lament for the forest felled, for 800 years: ash, now, ember and ash.

Lady of Paris, ochone.

I raise a lament for the stones that stood, for the hands that wrought.

Lady of Paris, ochone.

People of Paris, that weep in the streets, with you I raise my lament.

The Lady of Paris has fallen.

Ochone, ochone, ochone.

 

 

 

 

Last modified on
Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.

Comments

Additional information