I can see the past glory, though it is humble now and all the more reverent....
With thoughts of deep ocean bliss,
that comes with fading hope,
I walked along the tide line,
no longer able to cope.
I stared at the setting sun,
its brightness, burns the eyes.
I glanced back at the sand stone cliffs,
where a building caught my eye.
I don't recall it being there,
when I traveled the cliff top path.
I shrugged my shoulders then turned back,
to the ocean and waiting death.
I take a step towards my fate,
when I feel a tap upon my shoulder.
I turn to see who is there,
all I see is sand and boulders.
My eyes are called to the top
and to that small building.
Something there outweighed my need,
so up the cliff path I started walking.
There upon the windswept crest,
were trees leaning with the wind.
I followed the overgrown stone walk,
to the building, just round the bend.
The steeple leaned, but still spoke volumes.
No stained glass to catch the sun.
No bell to call folks to service,
no roof, as the rot had won.
Yet a charm was there to see,
strength came from the ancient stones,
that made up the four standing walls,
of this Chapel, now just bones.
I made my way to the entrance,
amid dead leaves, the scrag that enfolds.
I felt a welcome pour over me,
as I crossed over the threshold.
The setting sun cast long shadows,
that all pointed toward the alter.
My need, took me down the aisle.
Not once did my feet falter.
There He was, looking down,
from a weather beaten cross.
His countenance both pain and love,
I suddenly felt small and lost.
The sun sank deep into the sea,
and gave its final flair.
Within that light I swear I saw,
His face lift, so he saw me there.
I fell to my knees and I prayed,
as I had never prayed before.
I prayed for guidance and His love,
I felt both, to my very core.
I visit that Chapel, now and then.
It's still crumbling with time.
But, to me it has more glory now,
than it did when its bells did chime.
Paula Swanson 9/25/2011
For the contest; Church By The Ocean
Sponsored By Constance La France