Lost Sheep
In those days,
in thirst of those beliefs,
my faith sheltered me at the vespers;
infectious whispers~
those betrayals had no place within
my convictions. Now,
head bowed, I find myself lost.
Adrift, amongst the chants and hymns;
once short, simple melodies carrying
the key to the eternal bounty,
now rows of rusty repeats. Notes,
barely heard but
played in pews of succession.
Though, some sing,
no intonation rings.
The syllables are dried out,
wrung of any raised spirits.
Dipping tones break,
then lift back up in genuflect,
only to dull again in their worship. Rhythmically and insistently,
sounding dull~
inevitably, so dull.
Our monotonous homage.
I gaze out on the scene.
Looking straight through the congregation
I see the pastor in charge;
eyes fixated, down and focused.
His testaments are translated
and keep him in line.
I look around at the faces surrounding me. Heat rises from our bodies,
sending waves of warm updraft,
gently swaying me backwards,
forwards, further,
then closer to the altar.
Intensified by the glazed candle hues,
the whiffs of incense addles my brain
and I find myself staggering
for the hassock. Mixing in
the sounds of dim lilting~
I almost give up completely just
from the experience.
But instead,
I break bread,
kneel in prayer,
before wandering back out
into the light of my day.
~Jessi (image and poem)