Churches are for Sitting Alone
Sometimes silence & a hard pew is your best companion
Sitting in a church awaiting love’s return
weeping & alone —
the silence of the nave my shore
we kneel & shed together
sharing our crown of thorns
our bitter devastation.
How often we knew hardship —
I notice you prefer it that way.
I was a shop without a customer
& slowly you saved me.
Time did not favour us —
our bond this slow
acceptance of obsolescence.
I was the sacrifice
you the cross, forever mourning
the end of relationship
the anguished death of connection.
I tell you our bond’s a set-up
mysteriously pre-ordained.
People want everything but love.
Only you understand what I say.
What’s the record for a woman
to remain on my altar —
for your congregation to seat
more than eight?
I am glad we have each other
that we both retain
a child’s heart though
at least one of us is ancient.
Did it not take years
for emptiness to become
our friend, a space we shared
while the world was a simple
fool chasing things?
copyright Simon Heathcote
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