I touch I return Behind these heavy And kneeling
your hand-hewn timbers
that housed fair dreams
and holy passions;
while fragile memory
stretches out
into this hallowed place—
this reverent silence—
where the inner web
of things
unfold— unveil
like butterfly wings
from soft cocoon.
to an old friend—
this church
of my childhood
still standing
white and bold
against the green;
this birthplace of faith
and Irish New Brunswick
beginnings— where
ancestral seeds,
even now, spring up
through the dark
dense earth
like tiny bluets
and delicate shamrocks.
pioneer doors—
I hear faint slivers
of choral voices—
words that flutter
from the rafters—
taking flight
from ages past.
in this rustic haven,
beneath this quiet
work of grace,
I feel the warmth
of pilgrim's peace
wash over me—
and watch
pure sunlight
filter through
stained
crimson glass—
coloring
the shadows
that gather round
the altar rail to dance.
SOURCE: AWAKENED by Cindy Spear Polley (now Cindy Spear Ross) (1994) - used with permission from the author.
Return
to Pennfield Churches & Cemeteries Page
Return to Pennfield Parish Home Page