The Color of Holy

Maybe if I lived there and walked’

past it each day and heard its timely

bells it would fall into the realm of the

familiar, a thing taken then for granted.

Maybe. But I’d like to believe otherwise.

Standing in the rafters of the Cathedral

of Siena at dusk, I simultaneously felt

a vertigo in my chest and swore I heard

the bones of ghostly saints rattling,

Take off your boots, you fool.

Take off your boots, you fool.

I steadied myself on a stair rail as the

evening sun found purchase in the

corner of a pane stained with what

I sensed to be the color of holy.

The reckoning caused time, and me,

to stand still a moment longer.

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6 Comments

  1. Terry DeWitt on February 10, 2021 at 9:08 am

    Great words my friend. Cheers!

    • John Blase on February 10, 2021 at 8:27 pm

      Thanks, General. I hope all is well with you.

  2. Carol Longeneker Hiestand on February 10, 2021 at 3:16 pm

    “The evening sun found purchase” – more of your poetic, picture-forming, feeling-captured words.

    • John Blase on February 10, 2021 at 8:28 pm

      Thank you, Carol.

  3. Abby on February 10, 2021 at 7:06 pm

    I mean?! Where have you been??? And it is SO very good to HEAR from you!!! The grace you are speaking lately borders on the ridiculous. But, I suppose grace is. Thank you.

    • John Blase on February 10, 2021 at 8:29 pm

      Thank you, Abby. That means a lot to me.

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