Forest Sanctuary Concealed behind the rows of pine In a forest is a special church I call mine. Its near where I saw my children grow Its neglected and forsaken now. The years when we frequented it The brass shining and the candles lit Linen gleaming white and stiffly starched Down the aisle a blue carpet marched. The pews were shining polished oak The congregation country folk, I arranged many flowers on a stand To welcome those who had come to attend As they came through the heavy main door And crossed over the tiled mosaic floor. They entered beneath a Madonna and babe Situated high with Her marble robe, Watching over us as we prayed Baptised, married and dispatched. The church was small sitting only a few If plump, then only four to a pew. Led by an American Franciscan priest Living there alone he became our guest When tragedy struck the presbytery And his housekeeper met her destiny. Fate decreed her time had come, a fire In the kitchen made of the room a pyre. Sadly Ivy needed her inhaler but her heart Decided it was time for her to depart. Another chapter in the churchs life Commenced on that day of grief and strife. The Bishop decided to separate the building And up for auction went the priests dwelling We did not listen to our hearts which said Buy me and preserve the statues and lead On the roof of the church by being on guard. The decision not to bid was very hard So the new owner had a pack of huskies Which frightened the lives of the attendees At Mass, when the cries of wolves gave forth And all were filled with trepidation and wrath. The sanctuary where I meditated changed People melted away, numbers decreased As the priest lived miles away in a town Sadly the seeds of doubt were sown. It did not help when we also relocated After, in retirement we contemplated Whether to try and gently rejuvenate This special place where to congregate. And we regret not keeping a candle alight Shining warmly in the forest day and night.
Posted on: Wed, 16 Oct 2013 11:05:52 +0000
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