Little Rose Chapel, Michigan
“L’espérance de lendemain
ce sont mes fêtes”
I want to add that this was NOT meant to be a professional photo or anything; everything looked right when I saw it on the computer, so I made it sepia and here it is. :)
This place is beautiful, whimsical, and sacred. I almost hesitate to post pictures of it, because the memory is so gentle, but why else take pictures? One of my very dearest friends, seen here in the photo, took me here around midnight a few weeks before he moved far away …
we came to see all of the oddities and the charm: statues purported to weep, to smile, to bleed; a collection of almost funny statues, such as the lifelike bust of Pope John Paul II; a basket of plastic rosaries, a basket of palm crosses; a yellow legal pad to write prayers on; the station in the back filled with votive candles. There used to be a pancake on display with the Virgin Mary’s face on it, apparently. ;p haha
It almost seemed like a pawn shop of religious items, some beautiful, some gaudy, some downright funny. But everything was clouded with this mystery, this holiness that stemmed not only from being in a chapel at midnight, but also knowing this was one of the last times in a long time I would see who has become my best friend.
I was so tired, and the place was so enchanted, I swear had I looked any harder my eyes would have seen something special: a smile, a tear, a drop of blood on the statues. But I was too afraid, and so I looked away.
Unless one says goodbye to what one loves, and unless one travels to completely new territories, one can expect merely a long wearing away of oneself and an eventual extinction.
(this song is about how fleeting life is, and how the wind takes everything away …)