Minster Lovell
The Minster's quiet grace speaks of a time
when life was simple, kinsfolk came to pray
for hope within this haven so sublime
that famine and disease be kept at bay.
The temple thrives to prove the power of God,
it bests the test, as celebrants have trod
her cloistered precincts dressed in robe and cowl
to swell His praise through seasons fair and foul.
Today we slay and maim all in His name
people whose God displays another face;
we trample on chaste values and defame
this land we hold so dear, to our disgrace.
His church endures, the crumbling structure stands,
a shrine of truth on time's all-weathered hill;
shall we learn life's lesson, hold in our hands
the answer, or will it elude us still?
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2012
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