Step inside, trembling

Step inside, trembling

not from cold although

it was cold. The church

is larger than it looks

from the outside, the altar

bathed in light at the far end

of the dark nave seems

too far to walk.

Sit, halfway down, pulling

the prayer rail down to kneel,

saw how to do it in a movie

once, Bells of St. Mary’s?

Did Sister Ingrid do that?

Kneel, clasp my hands

like I’d been taught to do,

couldn’t pray,

couldn’t hear for the silence.

Empty church, beautiful

in white and dark, stained

glass around and behind me.

Face forward as the wind

touches my face; close

my eyes against the wind,

not to see it, not ready

to see it, not yet, please,

not yet.

The silence roars, flames

throw themselves, silhouetting

shadows on the wall, flames

bright orange-red, wind stops

as quickly as it started, begin

to pray again, or try, eyes

closed, hands clasped, listen

for an answer, hear the sound

of candles burning instead

of tongues.

Do I love

do I hope, I don’t know,

I love

I hope but

I cannot do both

at the same time

Photograph by Maliz Ong via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.