When spirits walk
Draped in shadowed cloaks
And moving still as night
Space, time, and mortal thoughts erased
When spirits walk
And then exhale, a sigh from gravest depths
That settles with a mental thud
Within my sleeping breast
When spirits walk
All emotions ever felt are gathered close
providing impulses sharp as drawn knives
A sigh lands, shudders and calls me awake
An exhortation of nostalgia and regret
And any longing of my own reduced
To a reflection of true and desperate need
When spirits walk
Upon my bed to sit, pat me gently and caress
With fingers already melting into mist
To share a moment of communion that
Echoes like a church bell at dawn
And then returns to rest
David Trudel ©
September 2002
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oh, this is beautiful.
Thanks – the church is up for sale to the dismay of many. The Anglican church in Canada has had a lot of infighting over same sex marriages, gay rights, etc and as a result they are consolidating the diocese. But the spirits don’t care, and they are more associated with Knockan Hill, a sacred site for thousands of years.
Ohhhh, sounds like the place has many stories associated with it!
Lovely. I got married in one just like it. And the poem is wonderful too…..
Enchanting! Thank you, David 🙂
Thanks Kathy!