A marriage made in heaven
Do my limbs embrace or strangle you?
Will my arms caress, enfold, comfort
Or tear you apart?
There you stand erect, sculpted,
Head rising high above me
Bare, exposed, unable to hide.
Your angles set in stone.
But my curvaceous body
Grows, matures, ages.
Though my skin is wrinkled and pitted
Winter’s goddess applies moss,
Filling and blurring with its green softness
My deepest fissures,
Shadows hiding my darkest secrets.
But you, you stand upright, tall, proud, stately,
Light revealing your every stone
Majestic yet vulnerable.
They say lightning never strikes twice. . .
But eventually you too will crumble like your ancestor– dust to dust –
And over time I will silently tear you asunder, stone by stone
As my branches force their way between your walls,
Embedding themselves in your aisles, penetrating your holy places.
(The previous church was struck by lightning and the current church was built)