The Chalice No one knows if the sacred narrative is like the church fathers tell us Collected events from too distant a past reported by rumors that speak of hell and heaven of Cain and Abel of the Magdalen the snake and the apple Everything suggests imaginary stories For foolish and gullible people Told in an archaic language The modernity refuses to understand But when on the altar the chalice rises bow the bystanders their heads In a holy silence His presence in the echo of time @ MARIA MIRAGLIA Life And Death I crossed the time among mists cold winters and sun-drenched mornings observed the blue skies where stars smiled at each other from afar saw flocks of birds arrive from distant lands and leave when the leaves began falling down admired red sunsets and pearly sunrises quickly following each other and get lost in the night of the time New lives have crowded the streets of the world like multicolored flowers blooming in spring and many peter their vital energy like glowing candles oblivious of their consumptions in the very act of their burning How many more the seasons that will come of how many of them will I still admire the colors and smell the scent until the Angel of Death comes and snatches me from life It's for a long time his journey began since my first cry in the welcoming arms of my mother but will his step be slow or fast will he ride his black steed @ Maria Miraglia He Lying down in a meadow in the warm spring sun or on the top of mountains in front of you an endless landscape Upon you a clear sky stained with white clouds moving slowly light as birds feathers the wind shaking the leaves of old trees Small colored florets scattered here and there emanating delicate scents while hearing cheerful sparrows chirping in the air Everything tells you of His Presence the birds' melodies the flowers perfume the movement of the wind enveloping you in His warm embrace You don't need temples or churches it's not in high enclosed walls of gold and precious stones you can find the divine He is in the air you breath in the children's gaze on the wrinkled faces of beggars sitting at the street corners everyday just look at things around with your inner eye @ Maria Miraglia-
Dr Maria A. Miraglia is born and lives in Italy. She is an educationist, bilingual poet, translator, essayist and ministerial lecturer for English language teachers. For a long time, an active member of Amnesty International and several other peace organizations. She is the Literary Director of the P. Neruda Association and a member of several international editorial boards. She has received a lot of international awards. Recent her election as a member of the European Academy of Science and Arts of Salzburg. Her latest work is Colourful Butterflies, also edited in her native language.
Confessions 