Monday, 11 June 2018

Inherit (June)

Hours and hours of unwasted time have been spent sitting at one end of a long pew listening to sermons on the sermon on the mount. I slide onto the smoothed timber of generations, put aside hymnbook, scarf, gloves and (later in life) glasses upon its spacious plane, to live again through the blessed paradoxes that upend the balance I thought I had about most things; any of us have. Whether poetry or anti-poetry becomes unimportant. Windows change from June grey to silver as, far from grassy knolls, the medium Eastern Hill congregation close in on the meaning of ‘inherit’.

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