LA SACRESTIA ABBANDONATA

Robert Tilleard



‘And what is actual is actual for only one time
And only one place…’
ASH WEDNESDAY   T.S.Eliot
 
After saying the Latin Mass, the priest
Quietly closes the sacristy door.
It is Ash Wednesday and the sacristan –
The holy palm ash cross still on his brow –
Locks it fast shut until the next Sunday;
But forty days go by and no one comes
And the palm ashes are now holy dust.
Hidden in the wardrobe are the vestments:
The priest’s white alb tunic now not so pure;
His chasuble covering now sinned against;
His stole – at hand for drying – now unwashed.
Unconsecrated wines, some for the Mass,
Some wisely kept back for the thirsty priest,
Not needed now, and only vinegar.
The waiting jug is empty of water,
Of no use to the spirit of the stairs.
This place is no longer the only place,
Entombed now, not embalmed but decaying -
And what is actual is for all time.
After forty days it is deserted
And now forsaken for eternity.
The sacrestia abbandonata.
 
  • Author: Robert Tilleard (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 3rd, 2022 18:29
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 12
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments1

  • L. B. Mek

    this way over my head
    since I'm not that invested in theological
    topics..
    but still, I found this to be a well written niche poem
    and I think ts eliot's quote
    helps make your theme more accessible..
    indeed, how to affirm faith and hope
    when the conduit's for your chosen belief
    are mere fallible humans
    committing heinous crimes, in the name of that same faith
    you believe, offers humanity
    their best window of opportunity
    to give existence, meaning
    and themselves a chance at salvation...
    all just a mirage's, reach away
    it seems!
    (thanks for sharing
    a thought provoking read
    written so well, made me fight
    to try and comprehend it
    well
    as best I can, anyway)



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.