I do not go usually
To the Church
I was born to,
Only the Church
That is the earth.
Special family events
The big three:
Births, deaths and marriages.

I love to stand in an empty church
And hear the silence
That echoes and calls
That is for me,
The profound moment –
Not the prayers
Or exhortations
Or throngs of piety.

The silence within
Opens my heart and soul
As birdsong does on a walk
Or a small flower
Hidden in a nook
The rustle of the tree leaves
River water gurgling by
Full of life and joy.

The echoes of Spring
In green leaf and bud
The call of Summer
In a warm breeze
Autumnal colours
That glorify the world
And Winter’s reflection
Of deeds gone by.

I stood today listening
To a blackbird’s song
That rose to the heavens
Gloria in excelsia Deo
Like an epiphany
Of the soul
And that was
My sacrament.