To Prayers

Shadows that have waited all day for their moment

Now stalk us as we emerge

Tripping into the night,

And swirling leaves play about our heads

Taunting our weakness.

Our faces were indistinguishable then,

Poorly lit and muffled, and cloaks roughly woven

Kept tensely drawn until we had crossed

The threshold of light, when they were opened

Cautiously at first then defiantly shrugged aside

As if death had suddenly lost it's claim on our lives,

For we were more afraid of God than the devil in those days

And more in hope of salvation.

Now, on the edge of the city, we still come

By way of the new pelican crossing

The statue and reserved parking,

Under the altar of scaffolding

We contribute a pound towards the ten million

Needed for the restoration fund.

And leaving our bible by the door

We cross the threshold again,

Clutching a more informed guide book

Telling us where we used to kneel and pray.

And for once the video camera

Hangs sulking at our side

Even our phones are turned off

So that non may bear testimony

To our being there, as all the time we pretend

We have no need of miracles in our lives.