Kneel

Like a grandmother

Kneeling by the altar

Wishing, praying, hoping

Someone is there

Legs crack and ache

Harden wood, harden stone

Never forgiving

For your hard worked knees

And your hard worked back

God has taken them all

And given nothing back

But with a tear in her eye

Still she prays

Her tears hit the cold lifeless floor

Stained glass illuminates

The pathways and doors

Where are you god? Where are you jesus?

No one is here today

And the grandmother feels alone

Children are in school

Parents are at work

The organ is being cleaned

Pipe by pipe

Slow by slow

But the notes come tomorrow

The immigrant cleaner sucks the dust

That came with the revellers

Disinfects the coffers and the hand rails

Fills the holy water

Spills it on the floor

Neglects to clean it up

The priest sleeps in today

Today is not a holy day

So he dreams of jesus lying in bed

His bed, with him

Cuddling and kissing

Spewing forth money

To buy new robes and loin cloths

Lustfully grabbing skin

And pinching with a twist

As the world revolves around

Outside the gothic arches

And limestone blocks

Behold the lonely grandmother!

“God is here on Sundays” she cries

Staring in awe at the walls

“And every other day in my heart.

Why not today?”

She cries for her love

She cries for her children

The upbeat reverie church provides

Goes amiss with the dusk

On Sunday night

The organ sounds

But no fortunate tune

Only a tuning of the notes

And a cackle of witches breath

Hits the ears

Disgusting discordance

You sounded so beautiful at

Christmas mass

Look behind the curtain

And you will find the wizard

Full of hubris and pompous

An atmosphere not bettered

By artists and moralists

Here and then

Sitting alone in the pews

Business begins at nine

The church bells still chime

And like a grandmother

Breaking calcified bones

With the pressure of death

Do you have a year

Or an hour left?