Italian Days & Hours
Wide Awake in Rome
Only yesterday morning I stood in the quiet of the
Holy chancel of St. Agostino in San Gimignano
Watching, under bright spotlights, three women
Artisans restoring Benozzo Gozzoli’s 15th cent. frescoes
Of the life of St. Agostino, gently painting with tiny brushes,
While listening to taped religious music on a boom box!
But it’s Rome, now. 3:00 a.m. And I’m wide awake,
Sitting on the window ledge in the dark
Listening to car doors slamming, taxis honking,
Voices from an Arabian restaurant, music from a disco,
Vespas wasping their way through the streets
And sirens speeding through the Roman night.
I can’t seem to locate that quiet space in which
To crawl and sleep at the Hotel Fortunato,
Even though the lucky beggars outside
Termini Station have been dreaming for hours.
At midnight, I went out walking, hoping to tire myself,
But when I lay down the darkness hummed in my ears.
Perhaps I should accept the moment—
The gift my life offers me right now.
Maybe the same God that guided me to St. Agostino
Offers this:
My own exhaustion. The music of my own beating heart.
This whole city below me dissolving into silence.