Sunday Vespers, 2002
Even more beautifulthan the color-played cathedral columns
awash in watercolor light,
even more breathtaking
than the rainbow pools of colored window glass
in this evening of song and spirit,
even more glorious than all of this,
I find holy majesty
in the absence of the light,
once the sun has set
and only the stains remain:
deep, and mystical in their darkness.
.
And as we stand,
a mass of heavy velvet robes
and white-ringed faces,
we, too, reflect somehow
this tangent twain of dusk and dawn,
of birth and ash-sprung rebirth.
.
We sing of scattering the night
as if it were but black shards of glass.
We sing of watchers proclaiming
light anew.
.
But in truth both are cut of the same,
infinite cloth.
.
For what could be more holy
than this absence,
this expectation,
this advent of dazzling darkness
streaming from every windowpane
before the light dares to arrive?
The circle of Christ-stained glass,
like a portal to heaven,
is now a veil of rich garnets and sapphires,
black and expectant.
.
Soon she will birth the infinite color
and glory of morning.
posted by amanda @ 8:05 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home