Poetry

Wednesday, 8 March 2023

The Chapel on Frith street

 They built the Church on the land

Near the river

Frith field

Where the frith are thrifty

And the lost souls who ended up in

Prison

Were down in the gulley

Where the river ran

Just as in Purgatory

Caught between the river of hell

And the meadows of heaven

And they tried to pull them up hill

They tried with all their might

That hallowed ground

Steady as a rock

On the back of solid lime stone

Somewhere beneath

The courses of trickles of water

In rocks

That have not moved for a thousand million years

And if that is strength

Then it is strength from Earth not Heaven

Where are the Vespers in the Vapours?

The Compline in the afternoons?

Just hard facts

Give me hard facts to rest my peace of mind on

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