A canopy of gold
Religion has been privatised like gas
I know in church we still can hear the Mass
Yet no Chaplain comes to dying men
I did my best alone without a plan.
Inside the holy sanctuary bare
I became both priest and comforter
I sang the sacred songs and gathered crowds
Outside our little cubicle they bowedL
I saw a canopy of golden cloth
Hanging down from heaven, as it does
It came nearer till it touched his soul
I was silent, love can’t take control
For a moment everything was still
A little bird sat on the windowsill
Then the cloth of gold was lifted high
I wept the precious tears for those who die.
That one eternal moment gave us grace
I see your sunny eyes, your smiling face
Copyright © Katherine Braithwaite | Year Posted 2019
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