dona nobis pacem

I creep through

the doors shut soft

a cushion of quiet over my form.

the room stops and I go.

I sneak among moments like this I’ve scattered about this place,

this room is alive

once more with moments

with minutes

with measures and music I’ve spread of you all around me.

I can see your shoes under the bench again;

butterleather, worn and navy

folded at the toes,

weary shoes

from a million notes laid loud and triumphant in their hearts.

your hair,

belled soft

soft, soft.

gleams like copper with the brilliant godlight from the window above.

your eyes

clear,

halfway shut for there’s so much to keep inside;

they’re ice

so warm for me.

And that back pew…

oh,

there you sat.

you spoke there,

for me.

I can’t take it and then the now floods back in.

I gather these moments hurriedly

like plucking love as flowers in a field of morning dawn.

I keep one for myself;

the rest I lay at God’s feet.

“take care of her for me.”

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