The Cloisters
I can almost hear the
haunting monastic chants
and solemn songs, lost
between the rippling currents
of the Hudson River.
The Cloisters stand, silent
upon a nearby hill
stone walls and ancient towers
are stoic and timeless
carrying secrets of the past
covering forgotten sins.
Echos of voices, Ave Maria and rosaries
the fervent signs of the cross
commune amongst sacred writings
silent prayers and penitent pleas.
The tower bells clang loudly
ringing in the hours
as time slips over the horizon
and well cared for gardens.
I linger within these hallowed halls
aching to listen to those voices
from long ago
disciplined, dedicated, devoted men
who knelt to worship
God Most High, Eternal.
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