Vista // Vision // Visitation

“… one Godsend after another, the only way to apprehend these accounts …”
“… was I the only one who saw the old man …”
“… at the Church of Saint Anne, was I the only one to see …”
“… after the crowd thinned into an empty atrium, sea of stone …”
“… as spacious as the saxe sky in Coccorante’s painting …”
“… Veronese’s Jesus is haloed, against the grey column; he leans forward …”
“… Jesus is pointing at the paralytic, his pleading gaze for healing …”
“… the paralytic’s face clear in Murillo, Jesus adorned in royal purple …”
“… from which perspective does one view each painting, and the history …”
“… where does one position oneself, under which of the five porticoes …”
“… do you remember the shrubbery, the brightness of day, yet cool air …”
“… do I/you remember the old man looking at us, from afar …”
“… do I/you remember looking around to see who he was beckoning …”
“… do I/you remember looking back, only to see him gone … impossible …”
“… only to see him on the stone stairs, even farther down the vista …”
“… do I/you remember the smile, warm welcome, of a foster father …”
“… at the Church of Saint Anne, near where the Virgin Mary grew up …”
“… the Church of Saint Anne survived the conquest of Jerusalem …”
“… how it changed hands, and fell to Napoleon III as a gift …” 
“… how it was an architect, Christophe-Edouard Mauss, who unearthed the Pool …”
“… was I the only one who saw the old man at the Church of Saint Anne …”
“… was he Saint Joachim, father of Mary, mother of Jesus, mother of God …”
“… was he the paralytic, beaming because he could walk again, on his own …” 
“… was he the other old man I saw down the stone steps at the Tomb of the Prophets …”
“… was he Jeremiah, who stayed by my side as I wept …”
“… was he Saint Augustine, who knew how much I needed to know, unknow …”
“… was he Saint Anthony of Padua, even before I knew how lost I was …”
“… was he Saint Jude Thaddeus, even before I knew of praying for the lost cause …”
“… was he Saint Joseph, foster father of Jesus, patron of the dying …”
“… maybe he was Saint Joseph, Protector of Holy Church …”
“… maybe he was Saint Francis Xavier, whose tomb I prayed at …”
“… maybe he was Saint Francis Xavier, whose name I took …”
“… was I the only one who saw the old man …”
“… was he the old man I saw in my dream in my twenties …”
“… was he the old man I saw in my dream in my mid-thirties …”
“… was he the old man I saw in my dream, again, in my forties …”
“… was I the only one who saw the old man …”
“… the old man had so many words, so many words … the words, all his words …”
“… the old man’s words, mouthed, full and emphatic, yet in silence …”
“… the burning words, bright and afire, yet unseen, if only I/you knew …”
“… was I the only one who saw the old man …”
“… was I the only one who saw the old man at the Church of Saint Anne …”