Shoulder to sweaty shoulder they stand
Eyes focused upward, seeking the perfection painted there.
A naked Adam, perfect, muscular, and beautiful
Reclines on a cool, verdant slope
His left knee bent, supporting
A hand that reaches out
His finger gently touching that of the Creator
Unpainted, but implied, a spark leaps
Giving birth to the human soul.
Below, the sweltering crowd stares
Their gentle murmer growing in
A crescendo of wonder.
“Silencio. “ An Italian bass booms over the crowd
Too unruly for such a sacred place.
They quiet, wondering when they will be prodded back into the August heat
To make room for the next pilgrims.
They wait, struggling with this demand for reverence.
“Silencio.” Again, the sinners are chastised.
They have failed to be worthy of such beauty.
© Carolyn Brumbaugh, 2013
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| God Creates Adam, from Michaelangelo's Sistine Chapel ceiling Photo from Wikimedia Commons |
2 comments:
Lovely poem. Wish I could have seen the Sistine Chapel when I was there 40 years ago-----they were restoring and repairing it and, though I begged and pleaded, they would not let me in. :(
I love this!
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