Progress
We don’t go to church; we are the church.
I understand, but such smartness guts a truth.
We are of a place.
A unique spirit abides in pews and altars and crosses.
They’ve no eyes but they see. No ears but they listen well.
No mouths but they whisper echoes of grace.
Our tracks to and from cathedrals
or the little brown church in the vale
were slug trails, evidences that
we are lonely and long to be kind
and architecture can heal.
But we’re smarter now.
Oooh, very nice. And I agree – stained glass and warm, brown wooden crosses matter. The act of moving toward them matters.
I especially love the image of the slug trails – that one simple image communicates as much as some books. Quite possibly, more.
Thanks, Christie. The ‘slug trails’ was a very last minute addition…glad it works.
Nicely done…slug trails is fabulous as is the last line. Great!
I don’t know, all I can think of are the slugs that used to make their way up and down our sliding glass doors in NC and the way my barefoot father accidentally stepped on one one morning. Then, of course, I remember too that we’re to be “salt” and that leads to me recall the effect of salt on slugs and, man, I’m just running off in all sorts of directions:)
Yes. Yes. Thank you for couching this truth so beautifully here. Snail trails are just about the perfect picture. This – ‘we are lonely and long to be kind and architecture can heal.’ Amen. And I’m thinkin’ we’re maybe not smart enough. ever.
You are a historian, documentarian through your poetry. I know this well, these lines are powerful in their telling. And it may be fading but for the call here and through the words of our generation. Yes, yes, the physical place has an important role in the life of faith. You sing it sweetly always with your poet’s voice.