Friday, January 1, 2010

Empty Church

Silent soft face of a woman shaped from gold leaf
Turns to me from the apse of my church.
But for her I am alone within this stone vault
And feel her presence move in my joints.

Then comes the slicing of sunset
That ignites blue and red stained panes above-
A thin film of glass separating the sun outside
From the dark wood and damp stone here.

I am a boy under knit cap
Wearing round glasses
Hands tucked in the pockets of baggie black pants
Over-sized coat upturned to warm my ears.

I am a man deep in the blue of atonement,
Touched in caverns by spirits who have no voice-
Ancients mingling with youth in this cool quiet,
Pointing to a place where I will be partisan and witness

To an approaching expanse,
Of upheavals unrelenting
And of nights and days without
The safe calm of these stone walls.

January 1, 2010

1 comment:

  1. I am having one of my regular conversations with my soul before the harsh stuff started to come pounding through - most of it generated from within. It's a 'coming of age' poem just before that experience began. So it's to anyone still sorting out the impact of coming of age, but mostly it's a reflection on my own journey with spirit, religion, church, god.