{"id":2425,"date":"2026-04-15T15:30:02","date_gmt":"2026-04-15T15:30:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lacortedimarga.com\/?p=2425"},"modified":"2026-04-18T05:39:18","modified_gmt":"2026-04-18T05:39:18","slug":"wood-cut-pens-cison-valmarino","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lacortedimarga.com\/en\/bosco-penne-mozze-cison-valmarino\/","title":{"rendered":"The Woods of the Chopped Pens: The Silent Scream of 2,403 Souls"},"content":{"rendered":"

There exist places where the earth ceases to be matter and becomes pure memory. A little above the settlement of Cison di Valmarino, in the solitude of the San Daniele Valley, stands the Wood of the Cut Feathers<\/strong>. Don't call it a cemetery: there are no gravestones here, no crosses and, above all, There isn't a single body buried.<\/strong>. And yet, the vibration one feels walking amongst these beech trees is that of an absolute sacredness, an energy that shakes the soul and speaks of an absence that becomes a constant presence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Memory of Those Who Never Returned<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

From an idea in 1968 by Mario Altarui, the Bosco was inaugurated on 8 October 1972, to mark the centenary of the founding of the Alpini; it is an open-air cenotaph dedicated to the fallen Alpini from Treviso. 2,403 bronze leaves<\/strong> that punctuate the path are not mere decorations; they are the names of men who left their lives amongst the rocks of the Great War (1915-1918)<\/strong>, on the glaciers of the Marmolada or along the banks of the Piave, and in the inferno of the Second World War (1940-1945)<\/strong>, scattered across the frozen steppes of Russia or in prisoner-of-war camps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It's a story of fathers, sons, and brothers that the earth has never returned.<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Many of them never had a grave. The Wood of Severed Feathers became their eternal \u201chome\u201d: a place where mourning is not cold marble, but the living breath of the pre-Alpine forest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Simon Benetton's Bronze and the Song of the Wind<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

The master Simon Benetton<\/strong> He has managed to interpret this collective pain with a mastery that transcends art. His bronze works, such as the renowned \u201cChrist of the Severed Feather,\u201d seem to cry out to the sky. When the wind descends from the mountains and passes through the metal plaques, the woods produce a light tinkling, a collective whisper that many visitors describe as \u201cthe voice\u201d of the Alpini.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In this place, the Stone<\/strong> of the mountain and the Bronze<\/strong> art merge to give shape to a universal sentiment: respect for those who gave everything without asking for anything in return. It is an experience that digs deep, a secular pilgrimage that teaches the value of peace through the memory of those who could not see it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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Useful information at a glance<\/h3>\n\n\n\n