Swallows on the Church Roof

Every spring, the swallows, known as rondini, return to Tuscany from Africa. This poem, written by Cryptid Parke, was inspired by the bird families that nest atop the the 1100 year old church, Pieve San Cresci, and viewable from the window where our Pacific University interns stay.

Art by Wren Bonham

Some say the smallest disciples are the holiest

But in this ancient sanctuary there is nothing holy about you

You, who swoops and dives through the air like a renegade bullet

So free against the backdrop of the sky that I can hardly stand it

I am envious of you

You, who are free and unbound by the fickle laws of man

Uneeding of divine approval or recognition from anyone other than the heavens

As you perch upon the arms of the cross, I tremble with guilt

Not for your godless actions, no

To hold you to such standards would be nothing short of cruel

But for my own lack of faith, for my selfish desire to fly

Unlike you, I was made in the image of God

At the foot of the hill, olive boughs burn and the smoke dances with you

And when I reach out for a taste of your freedom

My lungs fill with smoke, choking and smothering me

Mankind was not meant to hold a candle to you

I burn as you watch from your perch on the church roof, unscathed

Cryptid Parke

Promotions and Writing Intern at La Macina Di San Cresci