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Fall of St. Peter
| Open Poetry #37 |
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Fall of St. Peter |
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Dragot Junior Member
since 2006-04-30
Posts 11 |
St. Peter's Church had fallen mocking the memory of good people dressed in Sunday best. The pamphlets and handshakes needed for entry were gone. The abandoned temple welcomed all through its broken, fallen doors. Time destroyed the things man created, fabrics to rags, altars to dust. I stood in the weed infested altar, saw my reflection in a muddy puddle. It was the only glass left in the church, filthy water that delivered distorted visions. The once white walls glistened brown, as if patrons of past cried over the sermon now told in the church, the knowledge of geography and the power of erosion. The fall of St. Peter went to the very top, holes in the roof created puddles like my own. I saw my image in that miniscule sea, as pieces of the ceiling rained down. Flood waters rippled through the church walls in destructive waves. Each time the water settled, the remains were still there. |
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| © Copyright 2006 Dragot - All Rights Reserved | |||
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OwlSA Member Rara Avis
since 2005-11-07
Posts 9347Durban, South Africa |
Very well expressed. The "fall" is sad, but you honoured the memory of St Peter's Church when it was at its best, beautifully. - Owl |
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