In the damp coolness of an old Mission
the dust of dirt floors raise
ghosts of whispered prayers
for long dead lovers
Ushered in by the hush of dusk fading
into shadowed vestibules
candle light thrown
over roughly textured walls.
An offering given
a prayer of confession
belief repeated
in silver amulets
candles flicker
as the swish of robes removed
swiftly reveals
porcelin holding
Rose petaled incense
lavendered holy water
a different form of worship
echoes a different form of prayer
Vespers
lasting long after
the bells had rung
rousing pigeons
Now resettled
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Blown Away...
Once more, I cannot offer you the words that haunt my heart... so I wrote you a poem, it's in the mail
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Talk about a prayer being answered... This one would be just what the doctor ordered for me! Thanks for the reminder of better times.
Sincerely,
Leo Long
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