Reflections from Tuscia

By Patricia Armstrong, Tuscia traveler in 2024:

“While everything was still so magical & mystical in my mind, the mood of the Tuscian history, mystery & beauty that we enjoyed with Julia and the wonderful people we met there, I thought I would share with you the poem that I wrote on the way home.”

We walk on Etruscan roads
Hewn deep into hillsides
Cobble-paved by Romans.
Beech-hung. Oak-shaded.
So quiet and peaceful today.
Before us, and for us, they sent and brought trade, treasure, travelers.
Different customs and beliefs.
Knowledge.
War, disease, conquerors.

We stand before a necropolis, tombs of those whom we did not know,
who once loved, feared and rejoiced as we do.
Tufa tombs, so common as to be ignored,
where sheep sleep and tractors are stored.

The earth erupts, and the land slides down.
The tombs break open and the frescoes fall.
And still the sky spreads wide for the sun and the moon and the stars.
The same as shone down when those in the city of the dead looked up in awe.

What knowing was there, so long ago?
How did these humans perceive the universe? themselves? their gods or God?
What understandings do we not understand?
Portals into which we have not passed.
The alignment of the stones; the symbols of the carvings, and the gardens.
Frescoes: incognito.
Sculptures: enigmistich.

In our bones we know them:
those Etruscans and all who followed on this sacred land.
The passions and the seeking.

Do we honor our ancestors?
(Whose dust and desires we are made of.)
Do we honor ourselves?