Sunday, 12 September 2021

24.04.21 A Saturday Afternoon at Roche Abbey; Spring.

    

No great wonder, that a heart is buried here

for to steal a thousand,

would tax you none

rising arches of shimmering white, reach long

into whisping blue

still-silence is broken, not by you, and

the rushing, babbling waters of your veins;

but by those who yet remain, behind you,

in the aisles of time.

Bushels of corn, your transepts' lines,

prematurely terminate before the skies you once 

stretched 

to touch.

It is all to do now to dream and look at 

Heaven's umbrella,

once upon a vaulted cellar and 

a clerestory you tell

so well in ribs and bosses,

once upon more beautiful voices,

that filled your bare bones with song.

Long, 

now

since the points were set 

in stones;

since chapters were heard

and read, and the breaking of

bread graced your altars with devotional crumbs;

kissed today, by only the sun and steps 

of a shiny-backed

black beetle 

who is surely, running late...

You wait, as the afternoon's heat abates,

still shelter to offer and solace

to take, for those who will stay beneath

your arcades;

more pieces of hearts are buried;

shadows lengthen,

and time fades away. 

    

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