It was…comfort, quietude
Whispery with prayers of
Apologetic, for protection
Provision, small favors and
Miracles too grand for man
To manage; murmured requests
Accompanied sometimes by
Escaping sob, desperation.
Ambiance redolent…old hymnals
Candle wax, linseed oil, incense
Of generations, the faithful who
Believe even when doubting…
Sick from shame, fear, isolation…
Hungry to receive forgiveness
Reassurances and peace.
Heads bowed, hands clasped
Rustle and shuffle of pilgrims’
Coming in, departing…clinking
Coins dropped in locked mite box.
Recollections, how it was, used to be…
Doors ever open, welcome sanctuary
Where this child could bring heart to
Hear God speak in silence, respite dear
Let tears fall into Invisible Hands…surely
He—with nail prints, scourgings’ scars—
Needed no explanation, He’d understand
Maybe someday reveal purpose, plan…
Answer to “why’s”… somehow she knew
He was the One who’d never despise.
How sore, the world which turned away
And bred those who’d enter carrying
Guns…to kill others while they pray.
©Ennle Madresan, 2019 ~ All rights reserved.