Location: Chapel

11

Pairs well with Pure Grape Wine and Corpus Christi Carol by Jeff Buckley

It’s been a while, I say to walls collapsing.

The scent of frankincense and myrrh burned into my olfactory bulb releasing forgotten feelings like a covering blanket as if I’d been in a bad accident. 

I looked into a well and found my reflection missing beneath the ripples my breath created.

I felt the earth move and I think I left for a moment. 

I'm conflicted and soothing in quiet. 

Is it a return to faith or childhood nostalgia, I couldn't say. 

Dust covers the alters, the pews unimpressioned and plump, and the clerestory windows and mosaics. The graves out back are natural, some overcome by time and space and some erect on full display. I take my time in measured steps as I walk among the planted memories–  offering my bit of peace and the half of me that would have stayed to pray. 

It’s bittersweet on the lips but I'm not sweating. It's comforting like the face of someone you left long ago and met again, just to say all that you meant to.

It took me until now to realize it, but we’re closer like this. The harm we never did.

The worms eat and I'm happier having noticed it.