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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 19, 2016

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Submitted: July 19, 2016



Bell tower
against the afternoon sky
and the tolling of bells
for the office of None,

Domine labia
mea aperies,

the sun in the church
through high windows
pouring in the light
and we stood
chanting in Latin,

siamo come Dio
ci ha fatti
said the Italian monk
as he aided me
in the sacristy,

see I am as Eve
come enter my valley
she said and I obliged,

pray as if everything
depended on God
but work as if everything
depended on you
said Augustine(saint),

the feel of the rope
between hands
as we pulled down
to toll bells
for the office of Sext
George smiling
and I too,

Dieu se trouve dans
le silence the French monks said
as we walked
the abbey woodland
after lunch and birds sang
from high trees,

she peeled down her clothes
and revealed her soft fruit
partake she said,

Hugh stood in the shade
arms folded
gazing at the tree
in the garth
and the fruit it bore
still unpicked,

I polished the choir stalls
with a yellow duster
and red polish
the smell mingled
with incense
from mass that morning,

sprechen mit Gott
the Austrian monk said
as we walked
from the chapter house
one early evening
and I did but
was he listening?
I wondered,

perfect numbers are like
perfect men they
are very rare Gareth
said quoting Descartes
as we washed up
after supper
in the small room
by the kitchen,

my husband will never know
she said if you want to,

Deus qui possit ita
salvare te,

but I closed my ears
and even in the dark hours
I saw little light,

and I closed the shutters
to the departing day
and gazed at the Crucified
on the wall
above my bed
but small connection
to Christ in my head.

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