[blogging brings a kind of discipline. not totally sure what to say today. maybe i rest. still, i need to post. so enjoy a piece i wrote some time back. then rest. pax]
What has befallen the cathedral?
What midnight witch has set a curse upon this house… and given birth to turbulence?
They were gods, you know.
And they blessed us with their love.
Her power lay in his words
Lay in the scent of her hair.
And we who were privileged to draw near to their space,
Knew what love was.
Stained between sheets of glass.
Etched in marble.
Her finger nails carved out his sighs and we echoed it like a prayer.
But now, ill mannered birds circle the sanctuary
And that which is vile lives there.
The rain exposes our tears.
Bring the oils.
Retrieve the texts.
Maybe we can save this place, make it a safe place.
With a kiss…
And a prayer…
And maybe the “gods” would return there.
© Tracy J Hutchings