Annabelle Jane Poet Elegy

Across Each Threshold

So frequently we sat inside 
those holy dwelling places,
All Saints for all our sins, 
knowing that true grace is
here in the pulpit, there in the pew. 

So shamelessly we sat inside
those holy dwelling places,
Salvation found at fingertips
touching through forbidden spaces,
clinging, cold in the shadows outside.

So carelessly we sat inside 
those holy dwelling places.
Do you recall the Chapel, 
side by side with angel's faces, 
where you first dared to touch my hand?

Across each threshold, love, My love, 
we carried burning traces
of that blackest, basest love,
which no rosary erases.

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March 31, 2020 at 11:12 PM I suspect he misses and thinks of you everyday March 31, 2020 at 11:25 PM

Frank Sheehan December 7, 2018 at 1:45 PM Brilliant elegy. Wonderfully written. Thanks for posting.

Lawrence Sharp December 7, 2018 at 6:15 AM Poignant, mournful and very deftly crafted, great poem.