© March 24, 2008 by Norman Stolpe
Electric light floods the catacomb walls
with color more vivid than artist’s
smoking oil lamp could ever have allowed
eye or imagination to accept.
Husbands and wives, children and friends entombed
in passage ways and chapel walls, they meet
for Eucharist with love and grief - darkened,
anticipated - rising to drink and eat.
“For all the saints who from their labors rest”
we sing, unsure of words as well as faith.
The flickering light of long vacated crypts
expose the dark night yearnings deep within.
One step by oil lamp glow leads from my cave
if I don’t need electric to be brave.
No comments:
Post a Comment