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)