Under the blue Tuscan sky a ten year old shepherd

picks up charcoal from a dead fire, sees the black marks

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on his palms, draws circles on his arms, clouds on his legs,

a way to pass long hours watching sheep crop brush.

 

Soon cypress trees, scrub plants, a distant hill cover 

his arms and legs. He shapes the charcoal into sticks,

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moves to the rocks surrounding him, sketches the solid

animal bodies, strong shoulders, rounded hind quarters,

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distant hills, nearby valleys cover boulders. His work 

attracts visitors, includes a master painter from Florence. 

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2

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Here is Heaven. My gaze moves up, into the blue sky sprinkled 

with gold stars. Color from lapis lazuli, chosen for power, longevity,

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ground by his hands, stained blue, nails near black. He experiments

with binders, egg, oil, works with a jewel box of colors from the earth

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vermillion, azurite, malachite for clothing, burnished gold leaf for halos

angels’ wings. Only blue, not Byzantine Gold, the backdrop for his stories.

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His solid figures gesture, drink from cups, weep, faces full of expression. 

Mary’s anguish breaks our hearts, we feel the touch of her hands, 

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hear the din of horns. We are invited into the paintings, illustrations

of an imagined time, played out before a familiar Tuscan landscape,

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complete with trees, rocks, a flock of sheep,

the ordinary.

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3

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Here is Hell.  The Last Judgment looms over us.  Christ’s stern face

watches the virtuous pass into Heaven, the vice-ridden move down

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into torments for eternity. Heat radiates from the horned Devil 

rendered in charcoal.  Naked sinners tumble from his hands

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into an abyss.   Saints and sycophants watch, halos secure.

We assume a place in the Heaven line, dismiss the Devil, an idea

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as old as man, out of favor now.  Giotto believed, presented choices

for our consideration:

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fortitude, temperance, justice, faith, charity

or stupidity, sloth, idolatry, envy?

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Will stupidity lead us to Hell?  Or will it be envy?