The Service

A beaming morning ray, yawns through the silent opaque windows.
Stained glass prisms glistening upon the pews,
await the awakening of souls.
Whispers of times long past, songs of praise, and prayers of peace,
still linger upon the minute particles of dust.

Giggles of gleeful children, shushing mothers,
scents of grandmothers and sleepy old men.
Shadows falter, anticipating the Presence,
seeking peace, and longing for warmth.

A weathered shingle, a battered door, a moment of rest,
welcoming those who will come.
Sleepy eyes, frigid cheeks, mittened hands, and bonnets bound.
Jackets and ties, a pat on the back,
hands grasped in ancient love and friendship.

A single note bellows from the old pipe organ,
heads bow in reverence and joy, fellowship has begun.
As the wind blows softly, voices are raised,
as the ashes slowly settle to the ground.

Voices from long ago, hearts tied dear,
fellowship, worship and praise, strong ties that bind.
On a still winter day, from centuries long gone,
the congregation again joins as one.


Copyright 2004-2008 CZF