POETRY Reading: The Tolling of the Bell Tower, by Thomas Koron

POEM:

FONTAINEBLEAU, FRANCE
OUR LADY OF THE ROSARY
7 OCTOBER 1887

I.
Through these old wooden doors, I welcome you,
To tell you my tale and give you the facts.
This seems the most sensible thing to do—
For it is not only me it impacts.
I became ordained as a Friar to
Obey the ten laws, just as God commands.
I have abstained from any impure acts—
Just as my sacramental vow demands.

II.
I shall now remove the hood from my head
With hopes that my audience understands—
In the evening, as each vesper is said,
I pray at the altar with folded hands,
On sleepless nights, I rise up from my bed,
And pace these silent floors the whole night through.
The countrymen know me throughout these lands
As Friar Jean-Louis of Fontainebleau.

III.
In a field near Avignon, I was born
To a poor family who owned a farm.
I used to roam through acres filled with corn,
When my youthful days were sunny and warm.
I played in clothes that were tattered and torn,
With no trouble to be found anywhere.
Then, one day, a fire brought terrible harm
Upon the farmhouse while I was not there!

IV.
With no home, nor family, I was sent
From place to place until I was seven.
Traveling across the country, I went
To live in Bordeaux at age eleven.
Devoted to studies, my time was spent
With books to help me overcome my loss.
I thought of my family in heaven,
And lived at the Church of the Holy Cross.

V.
When I finally reached my eighteenth year,
It was time for my studies to advance.
My mentors hoped that I would remain near,
And stay in our blessed homeland of France.
I read the letter with a joyful tear—
Feeling my life was given a rebirth—
The university gave me the chance
To remain in Bordeaux and prove my worth!

VI.
Taking on studies of divinity,
I began working the following fall—
Reading about the Holy Trinity,
And learning about the churches in Gaul—
I roamed the grounds of the vicinity,
And kept the teachings of the Lord alive.
Once I was ordained, I received a call
To Fontainebleau in Eighteen Eighty-Five.

VII.
Once my journey to Fontainebleau was done,
I moved into this old monastery.
At times, I felt distanced from everyone—
Except when I walked to the library.
One day, along the way, I met a nun—
A schoolteacher—Claudia was her name!
The step to her walk was light and merry,
And fully intrigued with her I became!

VIII.
Even though in love, anyone would say
I’ve maintained the life of a loyal priest.
I saw her outside her schoolhouse one day,
Located close to Avon, to the east.
I stood and watched the students and her play—
Then left for home to practice my singing.
In honor of a royal Lenten feast,
I heard the Château bells faintly ringing.

IX.
On the way back, she remained on my mind,
I thought about her teaching her classes.
How she kept her dark hair neatly designed,
And the deep blue eyes behind her glasses.
Her beauty and elegance were refined—
She put a lot of work into her looks.
I envisioned her attending Masses
On Sundays, walking with a stack of books.

X.
I imagined her precious smile shining
During her younger days at the convent—
With other nuns, at a table dining,
While celebrating the days of Advent.
And often was I privately pining
Over why we were distanced for so long.
I cannot regret how my time was spent—
For men to love women should not be wrong!

XI.
I accept that I am a mortal man,
And have learned how to reap what I have sown.
I endure all the heartache that I can,
When I dream of her, then awake alone!
This all seems far more honorable than
Giving up a lifetime of devotion!
The thought of that chills me down to the bone,
And hence, I have abandoned that notion.

XII.
With all the dues I had chosen to pay—
Love had stricken me speechless from the start—
I know I should see her some other way,
Than if she were a living work of art!
The very words I wished one day to say,
I kept to myself, as anyone would.
Although, if she could see inside my heart
To know I would marry her if I could!

XIII.
Fifty years ago, in the Château, where
Duke Philippe and Duchess Hélène once stood—
For them, it was a matter of fanfare—
Something they had done for the common good!
They assembled royalty here and there,
And from standard traditions they did stray—
Celebrating twice more than what they should—
They were wed three times in one single day!

XIV.
Their first wedding took place in the ballroom,
Which under the second Herni was made.
It was here where the bride met with her groom,
And here, their undying love was displayed.
It was Étienne-Denis Pasquier whom
Had united them in matrimony.
All around the ballroom, nobody prayed—
As this was the civil ceremony.

XV.
In the chapel was their second wedding—
The one of the Holy Trinity named.
This service Duchess Hélène was dreading—
As it was Protestantism she proclaimed!
Slowly down the aisle, they began heading,
Making sure their image did not falter.
Along the ceiling, each painting was framed,
And the bishop waited at the altar.

XVI.
Their third one was within the royal hall
Filled with large columns from floor to ceiling.
The elegant paintings upon each wall
Helped to maintain the majestic feeling.
It seemed like a good time was had by all
When Pastor Cuvier wed them again!
Visually, it looked quite appealing—
Yet, many must have been hiding their strain.

XVII.
I lament never having had a wife,
While others marry as much as they choose!
I know that this is all part of my life—
And my sacred vows I cannot abuse!
I must pause from vocalizing my strife—
As the Château bells now ring in the hour.
I take this chance to reflect and bemuse
Throughout the tolling of the bell tower.

XVIII.
As God once had instructed all mankind,
I must continue to labor and toil.
Fortune allowed me a true love to find,
Before I am buried beneath Earth’s soil.
With beauty, she is crafted and designed—
I could never ask for anything more.
To help to ease my internal turmoil,
I began leaving flowers at her door.

XIX.
First, I must mention how this came about—
As this next specific part of the tale
Began early last spring, when I went out
With my fishing pole and a wooden pail.
Heading to the canal in search of trout,
I happened to walk past Claudia’s school.
I saw an older nun—looking quite frail—
Knocking at the front door with her ferule.

XX.
The very sight at first had startled me,
When she handed Claudia a letter—
Her older brother had been lost at sea—
As she read, her eyes kept getting wetter.
After I watched her weeping with a plea,
I built a bouquet of mercy—and chose
Forget-me-nots to help her feel better—
Rather than sending a single red rose.

XXI.
As the days, weeks, and months continued on,
I maintained my duties to comfort her—
I prayed for her suffering to be gone,
And hoped bringing her flowers would ensure.
The summer had turned to autumn anon,
And the classes soon resumed at her school—
At this point in the tale, I must infer,
I clumsily had made myself a fool!

XXII.
One time, as I was dropping off her gift,
Just when I presumed that the coast was clear—
I watched a frosted window quickly lift,
And behind it, her students gathered near!
My retreat was immediate and swift—
With the Château bells announcing my fate!
I then returned to my chambers in fear,
And sat at my window, to watch and wait!

XXIII.
Just this morning, in the crisp autumn frost,
I saw the footprints of the blessed nun!
Along the courtyard grass, a path was glossed
With her rapid steps—but not quite a run.
I rubbed my eyes, then my blankets I tossed—
When, from my upstairs room, I heard a sound.
As I opened the doors in the bright sun,
There was a basket of bread on the ground.

XXIV.
She left a bottle of wine for a toast—
In my confusion, I looked all around.
The note under the bottle mattered most—
Telling me her lost brother had been found!
He was located on an Irish coast—
After several months of being lost!
This discourse has allowed me to expound
Upon this tale of how our lives had crossed.