HOLY GROUND

ABBEY

This abbey is stability cut in stone

Down the verdurous avenue
And in beneath the hugging arch.

In the monastic courtyard
You are held tight
By silent forces
Drifting in the very air.

Locked in this contemplative cell
With only the din of thought
And pumping heart to aggrevate –
Alone with the worries of the day
Though aware of presence
And divine assistance.

A place where one might easily
Lower a paralytic on a bed
Down before the great physician.

This place of quiet retreat
But not surrender,
A time to yield
But not give in
A solitude of space
Where the soul delights
At the awful grandeur
Of Gods unfathomable mind.

Gerard O'Shea