by Peter Gallaher
(At St. Patrick's, Nashua
on the feast of St. Peter Damian)
The wood creaks
Settles under sinner's weight.
Silence once again.
The door, a year, a mile away by now, echoes
Shut with a soft clap
Like a wave's fall in fog.
On the left an old man lets the kneeler fall.
Someone coughs.
Two deep roars run up the walls
And flow back and forth
Dying slowly
Into silence once again.
Everything is percussive except
The thin whisper from everywhere
Inside and out
The river of prayer
And, silence once again.
The bell!
And we begin.
