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

Submitted: June 25, 2016

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Submitted: June 25, 2016



5.30am dawn
smell of fresh flowers,

aperiam labia mea,

Dom Joerabbit-like
(affectionately) put
a finger to his lips
to remind me
of the Grand Silence
that was in
the refectory for breakfast,

she presented me
with her soft fruit
and said take
and enjoy,

the breviary
black and heavy
held in hands
looking for the Matins Office
Latin and plainsong,

ascoltare Dio
the Italian monk said
as I helped in
the abbey library
to sort books
dust off shelves,

Hugh thin faced said
all rings and personal items
must be left
in the care of the abbot
all that is
of the past must
be left behind,

the smell of polish
and old bricks
and the French
peasant monk(lay-brother)
walked along the aisle
of the church as if
across a muddy field
in his heavy black boots,

love with tenderness
not passion
wisdom not foolishness
and strength
(St) Bernard said
I read some place,

parler à Dieu
de ne pas lui
the French monk said
to me as I am with you
as we cleared grass
at the roadside
to the abbey,

smell of incense
in the church
before Terce after Mass
and closing the eyes
and breathing it in,

I wanted
to suck her fig
but she giggled too much
so just kissed her lips,

if you want
be a real seeker of truth
it is necessary
said Gareth
quoting Descartes
that once in your life
you doubt everything,

afternoon tea and biscuits
in the cloister garth
the trolley pushed
onto the lawn there
and chit-chat
and talk of the day,

during Compline
in the semi dark
as monks sang
the Regina Caeli
I stared at the high windows
and mused on her
naked and lying there
arms open
legs spread
that image seeped
into my head.

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