Posted by Br Lewis Harwood FSC
on 16 April 2020
The sky is turning that orange and purple colour;
As day fades into history, so too the fears of many;
Each hour, each minute we wait, we hear, we hold the faint breath;
As the sea recedes into reflective grains of sand- the shadow of hope reveals the ocean's heart;
Behold the last taps of glass; behold the final prayers of the aging faithful; behold the remaining calls of the last carriage bound for the bridge crossing; the bells crack a final call.
What if and what next; who is what in this new day, in this new narrative of fog and fright;
The looks of unnamed worry paint the passing faces; the autumn leaves are ready for their shedding; spread your grace and spread your care - spread it wide and far.
The country mountains stay strong within ancient soil do we see and sense their wisdom?
The sky is turning as the stars shine another Sunday evening; we return, return and return - to the deeper depths of time.
The moon has seen it all with the sun brightly burning another day; drops of sweat and tears fall vigorously. Slow down and start again.
Let the birds wake the new dawn; let the sounds of solitude once again surrender. Let the birds sing joyful praise and beckoning;
The sky is turning let us wait and watch.