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Wednesday 19 April 2017

Two More (Without Two To Follow)

It is just approaching five-forty in the morning
There are two Monks here already
As a short peel of bells sound
Two new visitors enter, they sit on the front row

One to either side of the walkway
Two young men; one white, one coloured
Together we waited, in stuttered silence
For the first act of the day to begin

Two latecomers joined the congregation
We were six men now
But only I, had entered from the inner quarters
Vigils proceeded, with meticulous precision

Each Monk seemingly knowing their part
Of the week-worn routines
And the seamless stepped-out sequences
Of suggestion, and response
And of further suggestion, and response
And of readings
Even one from the Book of Wisdom

And one from where I know not, but which spoke
Of God having given love in his own image
And of having gifted us Jesus, to make up
For the disobedience of Adam, and his indiscreet apple biting