August 2011
That person tapping at his mobile phone,
The woman chatting in the pew,
Will they still be here
At evensong?
Hurrying from tomb to tomb
The young with backpacks - getting in the way
Of that old codger with his telephoto lens,
Stalking stained glass –
Are they all part of one great story?
An effigy arrests the eye:
Five hundred years of still
Devotion wait
Among the hordes
For silence and the darkened hour,
While human voices rise
Past columns
To fine traceries of stone
That bear the weight of time
For now, if not hereafter.
A candle flame reveals
The lighter's face.
Unlike the tourists milling round,
Souls sheltering from life or rain,
Our prayers remain invisible.
