SANCTUARY - A POEM FROM OUR RESIDENT POET
SANCTUARY
There is a special place,
Guarded by hallowed sandstone walls –
Witnesses of the passage of history
Over more than two centuries.
Once through the listed, decorative gateway,
Past transfixing war memorial,
Another almost forgotten world draws you closer
To those who served in this Community,
With love and devotion.
Cross upon cross recalls
Names, dates – and memories
Of those who rest peacefully in the Lord.
A left turn, a few paces forward,
Until the heavy doors open and close with a solid clunk –
As they have done, year upon year.
The outside world is abandoned.
Historic stained-glass windows, a crucifix, statues, flowers,
And the public Jewel of Bishop Eton,
Our Lady of Perpetual Succour, listening,
In the flickering of votive lights lit by many supplicants.
All is still -
Not because no one is here.
There is a diverse congregation;
Some kneeling, others, older, who sit.
The silence is warmly tangible.
What thoughts engage their consciousness?
For the next forty-five minutes, we are all one.
We pray, we sing, we smile.
We are united in Communion.
Worries dissipate.
Our world of fear, disaster, inhumanity,
Becomes less relevant.
Hearts aglow with peace and promises,
We stream through open doors,
To continue our everyday lives.
Autumnal leaves drift silently
Onto yesteryears’ faithful confrères.
A solitary bird warbles valediction,
To the snaking line of cars homeward bound.
The Green Man tweaks his approval.
And we, in amicable asides and laughter,
Crunch our way down tree-lined Taggart Avenue.
And for a few precious minutes,
All is right with the world.
A thought.
Could you, perchance,
Forgo the extra, cherished, weekend hour abed?
There is a special place –
Not far away!
Eileen Murray © October 2025
