Jean McLeod’s most recent poem to appear here was Prodigal (June 2013).
Reformation
By Jean McLeod
In proto-dawn
when birds trill like mad things
i am stalked by the cavernous
absence of belief.
It eludes in dark rooms and light,
surges through my hollow head
I scrabble at faith with bleeding fingers
hunger for the rebirth of wonder.
Deafened by steeple bells silenced
where once saints chanted,
I am burnt by stained glass images
which trickle over my fists.
When I cry out for a match
to strike Stygian gloom
the voice of St Augustine echoes:
To search is to believe
and the tintinnabulation dissolves.
when birds trill like mad things
i am stalked by the cavernous
absence of belief.
It eludes in dark rooms and light,
surges through my hollow head
I scrabble at faith with bleeding fingers
hunger for the rebirth of wonder.
Deafened by steeple bells silenced
where once saints chanted,
I am burnt by stained glass images
which trickle over my fists.
When I cry out for a match
to strike Stygian gloom
the voice of St Augustine echoes:
To search is to believe
and the tintinnabulation dissolves.
Such a beautiful heartfelt poem. I’ve read it three times.
Frank! I love your word play!
I feel as if I could have written this one. What a prescious visceral piece.
I love your spectacular poem, Jean. I love the depth of thoughts and the beauty of your words. Fascinating!
Jean: You have provoked thought and presented extremely strong imagery in this poem. I know that I will read it many times.
Jean, you and I seem to be going through similar spiritual feelings. I attend church infrequently because I feel such emptiness these days.
Jeannette, Thank you, so much, my friend. Love!
Marty. Thank you so very much.
Oh, thank you so much for your encouragement, Jeanette, it keeps so many people afloat.
Bobbie! Thank you!
Lauran, Thank you so much–and, take heart, Dear Friend.