Departures

Tonight may be my last night here this year
And thus my last Vespers
I am thinking of driving home tomorrow evening
I know it is a six hour drive
And I know that I won’t set off much before five
For tomorrow I am meeting up with my son
And I have no desire to curtail, or foreshorten
What little time we share together

As I write this it is becoming self-prophetic
What is the point of spending another night
Of broken sleep, here in the monastery
When I could be home with you
There you see, it seems almost settled
All I have to do is make the time to pack the car
Sometime between Vigils, and Lauds perhaps
Or maybe after Lauds would be less of a rush

Only eight in tonight’s Vespers congregation
And six of those, myself included
Are residents in the monastic quarters
We may feel that we have an obligation to fulfil
Of the remaining two, one came half way through
I won’t then stay for Friday night Vespers
But I rather hope they have a better congregation
What with it being the weekend and all that

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Script

I came here to retreat
To spend time with the monks
To write, to read, to walk
To take photographs

I asked the old monk could I take his photograph
Why would you want to do that he replied
Well, last year my partner came with me
She saw you in the refectory

She spoke highly of you
So I wanted her to know that you were alive, and well

What did she say exactly, the old monk asked
What did your partner say about me

Oh, she said you had a presence, an authority
She thought you showed great empathy
For ordinary people; actually she also said
That you were a vigorous social animal

To which I reminded her that you were in fact a monk
The old monk stopped me, almost an interjection

Look son, take your blessed photograph, right now
And mail it immediately, to your farseeing partner

I took his photograph, we shared a coffee
He asked about my partner
I said you were kind, caring, generous, loving
Is she beautiful he asked, with a glint in his eye

Yes she is beautiful I said
But right now, now it is time for me to be going

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Mass

As I took her hand
And together we spoke the words
Peace be with you
I felt a smile fill my face
And enter my whole body

Looking up
I saw two older men
Gesturing across the aisle
Smiling, silently saying to each other
Peace be with you

Those four words made my day
How fine it is
In my sixty-fifth year
Still to be sentimental
Still to be a lover of life

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Walk

Is it right for me to sing of my love
For a lover
Who has not loved me for such a long time

Is it right for me to bring her into these woods
Along a pathway where my new lover
Has already previously trespassed

In anticipation of your answer could I say
I’m with you there, totally wrong
A real turncoat gesture

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Abbey

In this place
Where I have almost free passage
There is a timeless peace, a serenity
A calm which would put tranquility at ease

Of course there are corners
Where past memories try to conceal themselves
Though, even with space-time at their disposal
They no longer cross my path with any purpose

Because you see, in these grounds
And across the leat, and across the river
There are sights only of my witness
Surges of water, falls of leaves, which only my eyes see

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